Exit Wounds
by theharshlightofday
Summary: Two weeks after Cordelia's death Buffy arrives at Wolfram and Hart looking for answers about the disturbing dreams she has been having since the Hellmouth was closed, finding both a grieving Angel and a newly undead Spike. Buffy/Spike. Ensemble cast.
1. Act I

_This is my humble offering for the latest round of seasonal_spuffy but also my first ever posted Buffy fanfic, so I'm pretty nervous but also very excited about finally getting to share it! As much as I loved the last season of Angel I was always disappointed that we never got a proper Buffy/Spike reunion, so I wrote this story like the (two part) television episode I always wanted to see. Thank you to my lovely beta joans_journal for all of her feedback and encouragement on this. Comments will be greatly cherished._

**XXX**

The sun had set long ago.

Angel did not mind. The darkness hid a multitude of sins, and he was guilty of his share of many.

The orange lights of the Los Angeles skyline glimmered distantly through the necrotempered window. Before him the penthouse was shrouded in darkness. The only illumination was a soft halo of light emanating from the sconced lamp on the wall beside his bed, highlighting the tangled bedsheets which had remained untouched since his departure that morning. Angel slowly removed his jacket and draped it across a nearby chair. It was with a touch of irony that he realised pretty much everything he owned could pass for funeral attire. Today of all days his choice of wardrobe was wholly appropriate.

He felt exhaustion beckoning as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, loosening the grey pin-striped tie at his collar. He stopped when something caught his eye where it stood upon the bedside table.

Angel abandoned his tie and picked up the framed photograph instead, with its embroidered flowers and multi-coloured sequins. It brought a small smile to his lips as he traced his fingers wistfully across the faded image of a much happier time.

"_We need to have a picture, Angel_." He remembered her words as though it were just yesterday. "_After Doyle… After what happened I want there to be a record of us. Of our family. And hey, we can get a ton of copies made and even make a bunch of them wallet-sized! Do vampires carry wallets? We can get you a wallet. And you know what normal people often carry in wallets? Money. Money made from a regular stream of clients. Are ya getting my drift with this?_"

Angel sat inert upon the edge of the bed, staring at the picture in silence for a long time. He was no stranger to loss. But this. This was Cordy.

He knew that he was lost without her.

**XXX**

The sound of a telephone cut through the darkness.

Wesley sat alone in his office with the heavy blinds drawn, despite the early hour. The sleeves of his shirt were pushed up roughly past his elbows, his shoulders hunched as he pored over yet another dusty volume. Beside him sat a half-drunken mug of coffee. He did not even attempt to suppress a sigh as he looked down at the mess of books scattered across his desk. He was deeply engaged in research and loathe to be disturbed. The phone rang several more times before he decided to answer it.

"Hello, Research and Intelligence." Wesley ran a hand across his tired face as he spoke the words. He frowned as he listened to the disgruntled voice on the other end of the line. "No, no I'm afraid he is rather indisposed at the moment." He leant back in his chair as he listened to the reply, carefully setting his pen down upon the desk. "I am not at liberty to divulge that information," he said. "But if it is an urgent matter you may leave a message with his secretary and he will get back to you as quickly as-" He paused, closing his eyes and rubbing at them wearily. "Swearing blood vengeance is all well and good, but it's hardly going to-"

There was a knock at the door. Wesley glanced up as Harmony ducked her head into the office. His frown grew as he took in the urgent expression on her face.

"Call back again tomorrow," he told the agitated caller. "We will discuss the matter then." And he hung up the phone and straightened again in his chair, suddenly conscious of his rather dishevelled appearance. "Harmony. You're not at your desk. What seems to be the problem?"

Harmony was wearing a pink summery dress and matching heels. It hurt his tired eyes just to look at her.

"I need to speak to Angel," she said.

Wesley shook his head.

"Harmony, we've been through this. Angel is on sabbatical. Until he feels he is fit to return to work we must respect his wishes and leave him alone in order to grieve. It's only right."

"Believe me," she said, "he's going to want to hear this. It's _really_ urgent."

"That may be so," said Wesley. "But whatever it is I am sure it is not a matter of life and death."

"Well, yeah, that's the thing," she said helplessly. "It kinda is."

**XXX**

Shafts of morning sunlight flooded in through the nearby window. For a long time Angel remained motionless in his bed, staring up at the ceiling above. The ache of loss was not getting easier. It just became more pronounced every time he woke up and remembered she was gone. It was not the same for the others. His deal with Wolfram and Hart had modified their memories, erasing much of the heartache of the last year. He still remembered it all.

God, he remembered everything.

For the first time in days he found himself getting dressed and calling his private elevator. The office waited for him downstairs. Perhaps there he might find something he could do: a life he could change, a soul he could save. The telephone in his apartment began to ring as the elevator doors slid open before him. Angel simply let it ring as he stepped inside the elevator and pressed the call button for the floor below.

As he stood in the enclosed space Angel felt a strange sensation raise the hairs on the back of his neck. It was a familiar feeling which he could not quite place as the elevator came to a stop and the chrome doors opened out onto his office.

A blonde woman was standing behind his desk. At first he thought it was Harmony. Her back was turned as she examined the array of weaponry which currently adorned the office wall. When she heard him enter the visitor turned with a start, her long blonde hair cascading over her shoulder.

Angel stopped dead in his tracks. Now he understood perfectly.

"Buffy."

Angel remembered the last time he had seen her. Things had been different then. Very different. Nothing could have been further from that moment than the young woman who stood before him now. She was not as painfully thin as she had been then, with a healthy tan no doubt acquired after several months living under the Mediterranean sun. Her hair was down this time, lightly curled and more sun kissed than he remembered. She wore a white buttoned shirt with short embellished sleeves, as well as a pair of tan trousers and brown heeled boots. A fine silver chain hung around her neck, bearing a small pendant which glinted in the sunlight filtering through the nearby window.

They both regarded each other in surprise for a long moment. Angel realised that he must look very different as well. He was not as trim as he had once been, the dark-on-dark ensembles having long since given way to tailored suits and pinstriped shirts. He stood awkwardly in the middle of the space, staring at her numbly. He did not know what to say. He had not been expecting this. Not now. Not after everything that had happened since…

Buffy offered him a smile. The gesture seemed strained.

"Angel."

"Why are you…?" He swallowed, taking a hesitant step towards her. "I mean, when did you-?"

"This morning," she explained. "I just got the red eye from New York. I was going to call first, but I had no idea if you even wanted to see me." She paused and looked at him accusingly. "And why exactly is Harmony working as your secretary?"

Angel groaned.

"That's a very long story I'm not even sure I understand myself…"

"I'm sure there's a good explanation." She gestured around her. "For all of this. Or at least I hope so. But that's not why I'm here. This is about something else. I had to see you."

He nodded absently. He was stupid to think for even a split second that she might be here for a social visit. This was strictly business.

"I thought you didn't trust me."

She studied his face for a moment.

"I don't know if I do," she said. "But I've just flown more than six thousand miles to see you. I wouldn't have come here if it wasn't important."

Angel shook his head.

"Buffy, this really isn't the best time…"

"And why is that?" she said.

A million reasons screamed through his mind. The thought of Cordelia brought with it a fresh surge of pain at the sting of recollection. He forced it back down into the depths.

"You don't understand..."

"No, I really don't," she said. "What could be so important that you can't even spare a few minutes to talk to me? Is your schedule really that busy?"

"You know what?" he said brusquely, his anger rising. "You're right. I do have a busy schedule. I actually have a business to run here." He approached his desk and began to rifle absently through some of the paperwork lying there, deliberately ignoring her presence. "Go and talk to Harmony. See if there is any space in my day to schedule a meeting, but as it stands…"

He trailed off when Buffy calmly placed her hand on top of the file folder he was about to pick up.

"Angel." Her voice was disarmingly gentle. He glanced up and met her eyes. " I know a lot has happened since… since Sunnydale. I don't pretend to understand what you are doing here, and I'm not sure I even want to know, but this is serious. I need your help."

He regarded her and noticed the change which had come over her expression.

"What kind of help?"

Buffy withdrew her hand. He straightened again, the folder forgotten.

"I'm not sure how much Andrew told you," she said. "About what happened in Sunnydale."

Angel studied her carefully.

"He might have mentioned a couple of things," he said evasively.

She nodded.

"After Spike…" She caught herself and began again. "After we closed the Hellmouth there was still a lot of work to do. We've been rounding up all of the activated Slayers wherever we can find them. Teaching them. Training them."

"That's why you took Dana."

"Yeah," she said softly. "Willow has her friends in the coven searching for all of the newly awakened potentials, but I guess some girls are gonna slip through the cracks. We still don't know how many are out there."

"You know, you could have trusted me to handle her," Angel said. "I'm not running the evil empire here. I could have kept her contained. I don't think you understand the kind of resources I have here."

"And that's exactly what concerns me," she said.

"And so you came here." It was more of a question than a statement.

"It's not what you think," she said. "I'm not here to take any more girls. And I didn't come here to lecture you or to pick a fight over everything that's happened. Honestly I think we're kinda past that. This is about something else." She took a shuddering breath. "I've been having dreams again. Slayer dreams."

This put him on edge.

"What did you see?"

"They're not exactly big with the sense making," she said. "I see flashes, here and there. Death. Evil. Apocalypse." Her tone lightened. "You know, the usual. But this time it's different." Her voice became fragile. "I can sense there's badness coming, Angel. I-I had to see you. I needed some answers."

Angel shook his head.

"Buffy, to be honest we're not really the best people to be interpreting vague portents of doom. It never ends well."

"These aren't so much portents as huge flashing neon signs of evil," she said. "And they're all pointing here. I remember the same thing every time I wake up."

He stepped closer.

"And what is that?"

She took a deep breath.

"A wolf, a ram and a hart."

**XXX**

Wesley reached over and tugged on the beaded chain hanging from his reading lamp. It illuminated a mess of books and scrolls which were scattered haphazardly across the surface of his desk. Buffy glanced in curiosity at an open volume which had pride of place amidst this clutter. She caught a glance of the title—_Higher Beings and the Real World Intervention of Otherworldly Planes_—before Wesley closed it and pushed the volume aside as he reached to take a pen out of his desk tidy. Then he gestured for Buffy to take a seat before him.

His jaw was shadowed with a few days' worth of stubble and his dark shirt slightly crumpled. Buffy hardly recognised him as the same awkward ex-Watcher who had defied the Council on Faith's behalf so many years ago. Older and wiser, perhaps, although she got the distinct impression that he would have gladly traded back some of that wisdom for any price. She knew the feeling well.

"I apologise for the clutter," Wesley said as she sat down. Angel hovered quietly at her side. "I'm afraid that you've caught me at a rather bad time. I've just been doing some light reading."

Buffy nodded at this.

"I see your definition of 'light' appears to be rather weighty."

Wesley smiled.

"Indeed," he said. "Lately I find myself searching for answers I am not too sure can even be found. But then one often thinks his own modest efforts rather fruitless in the grander scheme of things." The mirth seemed to disappear from his expression then. He cleared his throat and touched his pen to a spiral bound notepad set upon the desk before him. "So tell me, Buffy, when exactly did you start experiencing these dreams?"

"Dawn did the calculations," she said. "It was about nineteen days after we closed the Hellmouth."

Wesley started to make a note of this. Then he paused as something occurred to him, his unseeing eyes fixed upon the notepad.

"Nineteen days? That's odd…"

Buffy glanced up at Angel, the worry evident in her expression.

"What is it?" she said.

"Nineteen days after the battle," Angel murmured, following Wesley's unspoken line of thought. "That was my first day here as CEO."

Wesley nodded in deep thought.

"That would start to explain the imagery, I guess. But if you've been having these dreams for so long, Buffy, then why didn't you get in contact with us sooner?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I figured it was just me. Y'know, the Slayer part of me. I've been having a lot of dreams lately. Lots of girls all sharing the memories now. I guess it's getting a little crowded in there."

"The Slayer spell," said Wesley. "You believe it has something to do with these dreams of yours?"

"That was my guess," she told him.

"And they led you here to Wolfram and Hart?"

Buffy shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.

"Faith said that I needed to go to the source," she said. "So here I am."

Wesley considered this silently, lowering his pen and abandoning his note taking. Angel cast him a questioning glance. His impatience was obvious as he stood expectantly beside Buffy's chair.

"What do you think?" he said.

Wesley gave him a knowing look.

"I think we may need to get a second opinion."

**XXX**

"I'm really not sure about this..."

Buffy wringed her hands nervously as Lorne sat at the head of the large conference table before her, flashing her a friendly smile. Not so friendly was the added audience of Wesley and Angel who flanked him upon either side. She was reminded of a Broadway audition.

"No need to be shy, princess," Lorne beamed. "You can't be any worse than our resident manpire over here." He put up a hand. "Just no Manilow, please. He's already murdered most of that poor guy's back catalogue."

Buffy chattered anxiously: "It's just that the last time I burst into song in public there was this whole brain-to-mouth filter issue that I couldn't seem to control…"

Wesley gave a confused frown.

"The last time?"

"Also, I get dry mouth," Buffy added.

Angel folded his arms.

"Murdered is such a strong word..." It had obviously been bothering him.

Lorne chuckled uneasily.

"Look, help me out here, pumpkin," he said. "I can only read your destiny if you sing something for us. Sinatra. Streisand. Hell, I'm even partial to a bit of Stevie Wonder myself. Just a few lines will do. We're not handing out any Grammys here."

Buffy nodded. There was no escaping this. She knew that. Clearing her throat she dropped her hands to her sides and took a few difficult breaths. She kept her eyes firmly closed as she began to shakily sing.

Lorne watched her intently as she sang. Angel soon leant down towards him with a questioning expression.

"Are you getting anything?" he whispered.

Lorne grimaced through his teeth.

"Yikes," he muttered. "Somebody fix me a piña colada. This is gonna be a toughie."

"It's that bad?"

Wesley was watching Buffy with an approving smile.

"I actually think she's rather good."

Lorne leant in to Angel conspiratorially.

"I'm not talking about her pipes, mutton chops. This girl's reading is off the charts. I've never felt anything like it." Buffy's eyes were still closed, but her voice became a little stronger as she continued the song, oblivious to their hushed exchange. "Anger, fear, guilt. She feels it all intensely. It's like a smorgasbord of emotions. Gonna be hard to pin anything down."

"Are you saying that you can't read her?" Angel asked him.

"Oh, I can read her alright," Lorne said. "But it's kinda like reading _War and Peace_ for the first time. Gonna take me a while to digest, is all. And even then I'd prefer the Cliff Notes version."

Angel did not seem too assured by these words.

**XXX**

Some time later Angel gently eased shut the doors to the large conference room behind him. Wesley stood nearby, clutching a heavy volume to his chest. His face was etched with concern as he watched Angel turn away. He looked even paler than usual and just a little tired.

"Best to leave those two alone," Wesley said quietly. "She's had a long flight, and Lorne works best without an audience."

Angel lowered his hand, staring at him in incredulity.

"Okay, there are a million things wrong with that statement."

Wesley blinked.

"You're right. I wasn't thinking straight. I just meant that-"

"I know what you meant," said Angel. "Buffy doesn't need any distractions. I get it. I'm a distraction."

And without another word he turned away and marched back towards the lobby. Wesley followed him as he rushed past a number of startled-looking employees and approached the main desk. Harmony was nowhere to be seen. Angel began to cast around here and there, clearly distracted by her absence.

"Harmony?" he called. He tapped a hand impatiently upon the desk and then turned back to Wesley. "Where's Harmony? I need my blood. She knows I need my mug of blood."

"Angel, calm down. I'm sure she's just taking a lunch break."

"Exactly!" he said. "We're vampires. We don't need lunch. Do you know what we need? Blood." He cast about again. "Harmony!"

Wesley shook his head disapprovingly.

"Look, Angel, I know it can be a tad _disconcerting _when an ex shows up out of the blue like this. But there's really no need to take it out on your subordinates..."

Angel got defensive: "That's where you're wrong, Wesley. This isn't about Buffy. It's about blood. I can't function without my morning blood. I get cranky."

"Clearly," said Wesley. "But you're barely functioning as it is. Maybe you should go back to bed, take the rest of the day off. We can handle things down here. You don't need to worry about Buffy, or anything else for that matter. You've been through enough."

"I'm fine," Angel lied. He slowed down and leant upon the desk, staring darkly at nothing for a long moment. "I just need to figure this out. I need to do something."

Wesley glanced down at the volume in his hand, but then seemed to think better of something and said: "Angel, I understand your concern in this matter. But promise me that you won't do anything reckless. Buffy obviously has concerns for your welfare. These dreams of hers may yet prove to be prophetic."

"I don't trust prophecy," Angel muttered.

"Nonetheless," said Wesley, "it would be foolish to dismiss it."

Angel remained silent at this. Then he suddenly pushed away from the desk and headed off at full speed.

"Okay, here's the plan. Get Buffy to come by my office when she's finished with Lorne. I can make some sketches and see if the images in her dreams match up with anything in the Wolfram and Hart database."

Wesley nodded, matching his pace as he walked.

"I'll go through my texts. Maybe I can find something that will prove useful."

"Get your entire department working on this," said Angel. "I want every prophecy in our archives pulled apart, seam by seam. Search for anything which mentions slayers or Hellmouths. And get Fred to help you. I want the whole team on this."

"What about Gunn?"

"Tell Gunn we've got it covered. He's been acting CEO in my absence and it's gonna stay that way until further notice. Pretty soon the entire building is gonna know that I'm back, and we've got enough on our plates without clients crawling out of the woodwork for a personal audience. It's probably best that we don't spread around the fact that there is a vampire slayer on the premises either."

"I'm not too sure if that is possible," said Wesley. "News spreads fast in a place like this. It may already be too late to keep Buffy's presence contained."

This comment gave Angel pause. He appeared to be thinking something through. Then he stopped and turned towards an approaching grunt.

"Hey, you. Check with security. I wanna know the moment Spike shows up within two hundred yards of this building. Do not let him out of your sight."

The man nodded, a little taken aback.

"Yes, sir."

He put a hand to his earpiece and muttered something incomprehensible as he started off in the direction of the elevators. Wesley glared at Angel in disapproval.

"And have them do what exactly?" he asked. "Detain Spike in the car park?"

Angel's expression darkened with a scowl.

"I don't want him coming anywhere near…" He caught himself. "I just don't want him around, Wesley. Deal with it."

And without waiting for an answer Angel turned away and started off again in the direction of his office. Wesley stepped up behind him.

"She has a right to know, Angel," he called. "You can't keep the two of them apart. It's not right."

Angel did not stop.

"I'll decide what's right around here."

Wesley raised his voice a little: "Are you really so petty as to keep your ex away from a man she at the _least_ considered a friend?"

These words seemed to hit home. Angel came to a standstill outside his office doors. His voice softened considerably.

"I already lost Cordy," he murmured. "I don't want to lose her too."

Wesley bowed his head.

"Buffy can make her own decisions," he said calmly.

Angel touched a hand to his office doors.

"I know that," he said without looking back. "I just don't want her to make the wrong one."

Wesley affixed him with a questioning expression.

"The wrong one for her, you mean, or the wrong one for you?"

Angel did not turn around. He had no answer to this.

**XXX**

The machine hissed softly as a stream of hot coffee poured into the little plastic cup poised beneath the dispensing mechanism. Buffy watched anxiously as the steaming coffee filled the cup almost to the brim, afraid that it would overspill and stain the expensive carpeting with mass-produced espresso. Or maybe not, since she was still unsure exactly how she felt about Wolfram and Hart and the fact that Angel was running the place. It felt like she had stepped into another world.

"Need some help?" said a voice.

Buffy started at this. She turned to find a besuited man staring back at her, clutching a briefcase.

"Er, yes," she replied. Her beverage had finished pouring by now, thankfully without incident. She quickly scooped it up out of the machine. "I was heading for Angel's office. Wesley gave me directions. And then I started feeling a bit avoidy. And also jetlagged, hence the coffee."

He seemed surprised at this.

"Angel's back in the office? Guess I chose the wrong day to take a long morning meeting." He glanced down and fiddled for a moment with the clasp on his briefcase, then looked up again and smiled warmly at her. "So you got a meeting with the big dog? I'm not surprised you're feeling nervous. Angel has that effect on people. Well, demons mostly. They don't exactly admire his policy of, y'know, killing them. Sorta puts on a damper on office relations. That's where I come in." The man held out a friendly hand. "Charles Gunn. Attorney at law..." He cringed. "And I did _not_ just say that."

Buffy smiled as she juggled her coffee and shook his proffered hand.

"Of course." As the handshake ended she suddenly remembered her manners and added: "I'm Buffy Summers."

"Ah." Gunn's face brightened considerably. "So you're the Buffy I've heard so much about?"

"I guess," she said, clutching her coffee to her chest. "Do people talk about me here? Sort of a know-thy-enemies kinda deal?"

He smiled in reassurance.

"Relax, blondie. No office gossip going on around here, 'cept the regular brand of water cooler chitchat. Actually Angel told me all about you. Vampire slayer extraordinaire. And you've got the wrong idea about this place. We're doing a lot of good here. We just have the budget and the resources to play in a bigger sandbox, as it were."

She did not seem convinced.

"You do good? At Wolfram and Hart?"

"It's really not as weird as it sounds," he said reassuringly. They set off together down the corridor. "I've been on Angel's crew a few years now, but since we took over this place I've been his legal ace-in-the-hole." He tapped his head. "Got me a comprehensive knowledge of the law installed in this handsome noggin when I signed up for the job, along with a few dozen demon languages and some Gilbert and Sullivan. But I've been fighting the forces of darkness since I was yay high."

She nodded haltingly, her brow creased.

"Installed?"

"Little mental upgrade courtesy of the Senior Partners," he explained. "Downloaded straight up, no waiting. Well, some waiting. But I got a pretty sweet deal out of it. Way I figure it five hours re-reading _People _magazine has nothing on three years of law school."

Buffy's interest was piqued.

"Do they offer Italian courses?"

They soon reached the end of the corridor. Each reached out a hand to push open the set of double doors. They emerged into a quiet lounge area just off the lobby. Their pace had now slowed considerably.

"So what brings you to the big city?" said Gunn. "I'm guessing Andrew briefed you on the whole Dana situation?"

Buffy nodded.

"Pretty much. But I'm actually here on a different mission. Rumblings of doom. Freaky blood-soaked dreams. We're not too sure what it means at the moment. Could be an apocalypse. Could be indigestion. But I'm not taking any chances."

"Seems we got a lot of that going round," he said. "Apocalypses, I mean, not indigestion."

"How so?"

He shrugged.

"Apocalypses are a dime a dozen in this town. Lived through a good share in my time. But all the signs point to the end times a'coming. And then there's this whole Shanshu prophecy business..."

Buffy frowned as she raised her cup of coffee.

"Shan shoes?"

Gunn gave her a sideways glance.

"Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is it's got something to do with Angel and his playing some part in the apocalypse, for good or evil. Or not. Don't know much about the specifics myself."

Buffy nodded absently, taking this in with some trepidation.

"Prophecies can be vague in their vagueness."

A few employees strolled past as they turned an intersection in the corridor. Buffy was lost in her thoughts as she sipped on her coffee. Gunn shook his head in amusement.

"What am I saying? Here's me yammering on about apocalypses and prophecies with the original slayer of vamps. No doubt you've fought every beastie under the sun and out of it. I'm guessing you're not exactly sweating over some new Big Bad on the horizon. By all accounts you've got an army of Slayers to back you up these days."

"Hopefully it won't come to that," she said. "I tried the whole Generalissimo Buffy but it wasn't really my thing. Besides, I'm trying not to worry too much for now. The green guy with the horns is looking into it."

"Lorne?"

"Yeah, he read me a little earlier. But by the look on his face I'm not too sure he liked what he saw."

Gunn smirked.

"I find that hard to believe."

Buffy gave a bashful smile as she took another sip of her coffee. It had cooled substantially by this point.

"So," she said slowly. "Yay high, legal ace, Gilbert and Sullivan... Is there anything else I should know?"

He shrugged.

"I play a pretty mean round of golf."

She glanced up at him teasingly.

"And so you help Angel to fight by valiantly fending off hordes of evil lawsuits?"

"Hey, a brother can still throw down on occasion. Nowadays I just do it in a dapper suit and tie." He fussed with his collar. "For instance, there was this whole mess in the office a few months back with a host of invading cyborgs, and-"

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Cyborgs? You mean, like robots?"

"Killer robots." He paused and gave her a knowing look. "I'm not making this any less weird for you, am I?"

Buffy smiled in amusement.

"Weirdness is kinda my M.O. Besides, I've battled a couple of killer robots in my time. They weren't exactly Schwarzenegger."

They had reached Angel's office without even realising it. Gunn slowed as they came to a standstill outside the closed double doors.

"Listen, I better get going." He looked at his watch. "Got an arbitration meeting at noon and I'm way behind on my paperwork. Been hard to get back into the swing of things ever since…" He looked sad for a moment as his sentence petered out. "Besides, I'm guessing after you and Angel have finished doing your thing you'll be itching to catch up with our resident former ghost. No doubt the two of you have a lot to talk about."

She gave him a puzzled look then. It slowly dawned on him that Buffy had no idea that Spike was even alive. It had been a while since he had last seen the guy himself. He had gotten into the habit of showing up at the office whenever there was trouble and then disappearing for days on end, no doubt helping the helpless out on the dark streets. Gunn did not think it was his place to tell her, so he decided to change tack instead.

"Anyways, I should grab a quick lunch and prepare myself for the voodoo death threats and recriminations. It was nice meeting you."

Buffy's frown widened as she paused with her hand raised, preparing to knock on Angel's office door.

"Voodoo death threats?"

Gunn smiled as he turned on his heel.

"Welcome to L.A."

**XXX**

The news of Angel's return to the office soon spread throughout the building like wildfire. It was not long before Harmony was stuck firmly behind her desk, fielding phone calls left and right. Per Angel's instructions she told them that he was unavailable and that Charles Gunn was still acting CEO until further notice. She reiterated this message a dozen or so times as the morning wore on.

So it was that with a certain saunter in his step Spike emerged into the main lobby of Wolfram and Hart, his leather duster swirling as he wielded a battle axe covered in blood. He casually stepped over the body of an unconscious grunt as he exited the elevator, garnering a number of wary glances as he approached the main desk. Harmony was chattering away on the phone, oblivious to his presence until:

"Morning all."

He smirked triumphantly as he deposited his axe upon the desk. Harmony jumped in alarm as it gave an almighty clang. She glared up at Spike as she lowered the phone in her hand.

"Hey," she cried, "rude much? I could have been speaking to someone important."

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Are you not still speaking to them now?"

The phone dangled in her hand, forgotten. Harmony gave a sigh and hung it up in exasperation, cutting off the person on the other end of the line.

"Never mind," she said. "It's ruined now, whatever."

Spike shrugged and then hefted up his axe again.

"Just like my brand new axe. Bleedin' thing broke as I was separating a particularly stubborn beastie from its particularly stubborn neck." He tossed it down, a little more gently this time. "Are you sure Angel isn't keeping back some of the more high-end weaponry in that office of his? Couple of swords, a throwing axe, maybe a rocket launcher or two…"

As Spike craned his neck towards the office doors Harmony became aware of a continuous pinging sound. She glanced over and noticed that people were milling around near the elevator. Its doors were repeatedly trying and failing to close upon the motionless form of one of Angel's grunts.

She turned back to Spike.

"Er, did you just kill that guy?" she ventured nervously. "'Cause Angel has this whole no tolerance policy when it comes to slaughtering innocents in the workplace, believe me…"

Spike followed the source of her gaze and shrugged again.

"Guy was hassling me in the car park," he explained. "Never did catch what he was blathering on about. Lost my patience with him shortly before my fist met his face. He'll wake up soon enough."

"Well, I wouldn't wanna tick off the boss if I were you," Harmony said. "He's in a foul mood today. Been on my case already about his morning blood, not to mention rescheduling this conference with the Fell Brethren…" She gestured helplessly. "And, by the way, you're getting blood all over my desk."

Spike ran a hand admiringly along the blade of his axe, which was currently dripping blood at a steady rate.

"Just stumbled across a rather nasty vamp nest downtown," he said. "Figured the boss might fancy a good old-fashioned scrap. Spot of violence bound to take his mind off Cordelia, snap him out of his funk. But it sounds like somebody already beat me to it."

"I thought you and Angel were, y'know, mortal enemies or whatever. Why do you even care what he's going through?"

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Well, aren't you a ray of sunshine today."

"Hey," she said. "Cordelia was my friend too. Angel's not the only one going through something here. You didn't know her. Nobody knew her. Not like I did." Spike withdrew his hand from the desk, his expression muted. Harmony was starting to get teary eyed. "And now she's gone. And it's like nobody cares. They just yell at me to fetch them their blood and reschedule their meetings. They don't care what I'm going through. They just expect me to put on this huge fake smile and act like everything's okay, when really-"

The phone rang. Harmony turned away to answer it.

"Hello, Wolfram and Hart?" she said cheerily. A pause. "No, you want ritual sacrifice. We don't slaughter goats at this branch. Well, not anymore." Another pause. "I know, right? It's crazy. But those are the rules. New regime and all. We've had to make some adjustments. But I can give you the number for a great place out in San Fran. They outsource all of their goats from a company in Cairo…"

Spike nodded absently as he turned away and muttered to himself:

"You don't have to be crazy to work here, but…"

Harmony's eyes went wide as she remembered the instructions she had been given not ten minutes earlier. She shot to her feet and rushed out from behind the desk in a panic, abandoning the person on the other end of the line for a second time.

"Spike!" she cried. "Wait! You really don't want to go in there..."

He did not stop pacing

"And why the bloody hell not?"

Her warning was to no avail. Spike was not a few strides from the office doors when they suddenly opened of their own accord and Angel emerged from within, engaged in conversation with somebody he could not see. Spike stopped short when he saw just who it was.

Angel came to a standstill. Buffy was just two steps behind him. Her face turned a drastic shade of white as she locked eyes with the newly undead vampire from across the lobby.

"Spike?"

She looked like she had seen a ghost. Which, Spike vaguely realised, she probably thought she had.


	2. Act II

****_And here is the next chapter, complete with a lot more Spuffy! I had so much fun writing the Buffy/Spike scenes in this story and there is plenty more to come in further chapters. Thank you to everyone who has added this to their faves/alerts - I'd love to hear what you think of the story so far. There will be allusions to other ships in this fic but the clue is in the summary and my author's notes as to which direction this fic will ultimately go in! That doesn't necessarily mean that things are going to be easy though..._

****XXX****

Buffy and Spike were both dumbstruck as they stared at each other from across the length of the lobby. It was filled with clients and employees strolling back and forth, completely oblivious to their dilemma. Harmony shrunk back towards her desk at the sight of both the Slayer and her surely disgruntled boss.

A range of emotions flickered across Spike's face.

Buffy simply registered shock.

"I can explain," Angel said clumsily.

Buffy was not even listening. Without a word she slipped away from his side and marched cleanly across the lobby towards Spike. Her demeanour was all business. Spike stood frozen to the spot as she approached.

"Buffy."

He had barely managed to stammer out her name before she downed him with a vicious right hook. The entire lobby came to a standstill at this display.

Angel could not help but smirk.

"I guess I can't."

All three were now the centre of attention as Spike struggled back to his feet, shrugging his duster back over his shoulders as he swayed a little off-balance. Blood was trickling from his nose as he touched his knuckles to his throbbing face.

"Ow," he cried. "What in the bleeding hell was that for?"

"Let me count the reasons," Angel said triumphantly.

Buffy looked completely distraught as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. Her mouth opened but no words came for several moments.

"I thought you were the First," she finally managed.

Spike clutched a hand to his bleeding nose.

"Evidently," he said, raising an eyebrow. "So why on earth did you punch me in all of my apparently incorporeal glory then?"

Buffy did not have an answer for this.

"I don't know" she offered. "I just thought that…" Tears began to glisten in her eyes. "Spike?" she said, her voice trembling.

**XXX**

They had soon retreated to the privacy of Angel's office. The distance between them was painfully evident. Buffy leant awkwardly against Angel's desk, hugging her bare arms protectively to her chest. Spike mirrored her posture as he stood beside the armchair positioned in front of it. Angel lingered beside the window, touching a fist to the glass in frustration. He was currently mid-explanation.

"It was the amulet," Angel explained. "Somehow it stored Spike's essence after he burnt up in the Hellmouth. It got mailed to my office and presto."

"Instant undeath," said Buffy, finishing his sentence for him.

Angel turned towards her.

"Only not so instant," he answered, glowering at Spike. "I don't understand the specifics of it myself, but his existence on this plane was tied directly to the amulet."

Buffy frowned.

"Meaning?"

Angel snatched a glance at Spike.

"Meaning that Captain Peroxide here was a ghost."

Stunned was an understatement. Buffy simply looked at Spike with a mixture of shock and awe upon her face. Spike returned her gaze uncomfortably.

"I got better," he muttered.

This revelation seemed to render Buffy momentarily speechless. Spike did not seem to know what to say. Eventually Angel stepped into the fore.

"I know that this is a lot to take in," he said. Buffy gave him a look. "Okay, more than a lot," he conceded. "And maybe you are looking for somebody to blame or to throw another punch at. I know I am. But the guy responsible for all of this is currently… Well, we don't where he is currently. The Senior Partners whisked him off somewhere I'm thinking not good. There was a portal involved."

Buffy did not respond. She simply pushed away from the desk and began with the disordered pacing, attempting to process everything that had happened in the last ten minutes. Spike did not take his eyes away from her. He touched a hand to his still-throbbing jaw as he watched her pace.

Angel snatched a look at him, chiding him silently for his lack of helpfulness. Then he stepped forward to touch Buffy's arm and try and guide her to a chair.

"Maybe you should sit down," he offered.

Buffy jerked away with a start, more out of defensiveness than anything.

"I don't need to sit down," she told him. "This is not a sitting down situation, okay? You'll just have to excuse me for the major level freak out here, but it's not everyday that you find out that your former former is, y'know, formerly dead."

Angel thought about this for a long moment.

"Well actually, since you mention it…"

"And just what is this anyways?" she said despairingly, her tone becoming angry. "Did I somehow miss the memo for Keep-Important-Things-From-Buffy-Week?"

Angel and Spike exchanged a look at this comment. It did not go amiss. Buffy's pacing came to an immediate stop.

"Except Spike has been back for more than a week, hasn't he?"

Angel shook his head.

"Buffy, this is really not the best-"

"_How long_?" she said brusquely.

Angel avoided her gaze.

"About six months, give or take."

"_Six months_?" Buffy's eyes went wide. She looked straight at Spike. "You've been back for _six months _and you never told me?"

"The time has flown, I assure you," Angel deadpanned.

Buffy's eyes did not leave Spike's face.

"I can't believe this," she said. "I just can't…" She ran a trembling hand through her hair. "You should have called."

"I was going to," Spike told her. "Wanted to."

She held his gaze.

"So why didn't you?"

There it was - the infernal question that he had been pondering himself for so long. He was not even sure how to go about answering it. He didn't even know if he could. His thoughts had been going round and round in circles ever since he had become corporeal again. And then after the situation with Dana…

"Had my reasons," Spike muttered. "I told Andrew that-

"Andrew?" she said incredulously. He had obviously hit a nerve. "You mean that _Andrew_ knew you were back?" Indignation filled her voice. "The next time I see him Watcher Junior has a _lot _of explaining to do…"

Spike shook his head.

"Don't hurt the boy, slayer. I said I was going to tell you myself. No way was I gonna entrust him with the task. He'd probably start blathering on about Gandalf and the Balrog again…"

The hurt upon Buffy's face was plain to see. She did not let on. Instead she turned away from Spike as she lowered herself down onto the sofa. Angel was slightly comforted by this small victory. The snatched look that she afforded him, however, told him that this was no time for celebration. Spike thrust his hands in the pockets of his duster, feeling helpless.

"You've been back for months," Buffy said quietly. "And here I was stupidly thinking that you were still dead. Did you not even think that I deserved to know? Especially after everything we…" She caught herself, swallowing against the emotion rising in her throat.

Spike bowed his head, humbled.

"I didn't know that it meant so much to you," he said honestly.

Buffy looked up at him. Her eyes were glimmering with unshed tears.

"How can you even say that?"

This conversation was taking a turn which made Angel extremely uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and then took a step away from the sanctuary of his desk, discarding the empty mug which he had been awkwardly playing with.

"Look, I don't really know what happened between the two of you," he interjected. "Frankly I don't want to know. But-"

Buffy shot a look at him.

"Really not helping."

Angel threw up his hands.

"Hey, I'm not the guy who pretended to be dead here."

"I _wasn't_ pretending," Spike protested. "I just… sorta failed to mention that I was alive." He perked up a bit. "There's a nuanced difference there which I feel you're blatantly overlooking."

"And that makes it okay, does it?" said Angel.

"I didn't say that."

"And that's exactly the problem," Angel shot back. "Maybe next time you die and get magically resurrected from a mystical amulet try to give the people you know a heads up before the century is out."

"As I recall you weren't exactly very helpful in that regard…"

Buffy rolled her eyes at this.

"Um yeah," she prodded. "Kinda standing right here."

It was not long before all three had descended into a full-blown argument. Somewhere amongst this crescendo of white noise there was a firm rat-a-tat upon the office door. It went completely unheard. Eventually the door opened of its own accord and Harmony stuck her head inside. She plastered on her best cheery smile.

"Uh, Angel?" She knocked shyly upon the door again. "Boss?"

The discussion suddenly died. Angel sank defeated into the chair behind his desk; Buffy and Spike turned around in exasperation. Harmony withdrew a little under the slayer's murderous gaze.

"Hi there," she chirped. "Hi, er, Buffy. So nice to see you again! I know that we already bumped into each other in the lobby earlier with the whole threatening to kill me and everything … Good times! But I, er, I just…"

Angel sat forwards.

"Harmony?"

"I, uh, just wanted to say that someone from the Fell Brethren is here to see you. Something about a scheduling conflict? He seems pretty mad."

Angel stared after her in relief.

"Oh thank god."

**XXX**

"Buffy? You mean Buffy is here?"

Fred looked up from her laptop and frowned, her spectacles perched precariously upon the end of her nose. She was busy conducting research in the confines of her lab. Wesley stood next to her, his arms folded as he watched her work.

"Seemingly she is holed up in Angel's office with he and Spike," he replied. "I saw them get into a slight fracas in the lobby."

Fred readjusted her spectacles as she stood up straighter.

"Well, that's good, right? I-I mean, Buffy being here, not the fracas. Spike will finally see her. She'll know that he's not dead. They can be together again..." The surety slipped from her voice. "Right?"

Wesley sank down into a chair.

"I'm not sure it's as simple as that."

Fred turned away from her work.

"How do you mean?"

A trace of emotion flickered across Wesley's face at this question, as though he were contemplating the best way to word something which he had long been pondering.

"Love is a complicated business, Fred," he told her. "Timing is everything. It all depends whether she feels the same way towards him that he clearly still feels towards her."

Fred did not remain unmoved by these words. They cut close to home.

"And then there is the question of Angel," Wesley continued, oblivious to her thoughts. "Where does he fit into all of this? I'm not sure if he is ready to relinquish whatever claim he feels he has upon Buffy's heart. Especially after Cordelia…"

There was an uncomfortable beat as he trailed off. The mention of her name hurt them both more than they liked to admit. Mostly they had been in denial mode. They all had. Somehow it was easier that way.

Footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. The sound brought them both back from the brink. Wesley abruptly stood up from his chair and cleared his throat.

"I should keep working," Fred offered quietly. She turned back to her work. Then she removed her spectacles with finality. "Or not. There could be snooping." She looked to Wesley. "Should I snoop?"

The door of the lab opened behind them. Wesley turned his head to see a besuited Gunn approaching, minus his briefcase for a change.

"If you wish," Wesley said distractedly. "I was planning on doing a bit of, er, snooping myself."

Gunn smiled at them both.

"What's that about Snoopy?"

Fred's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"What? Oh, nothing, Charles. We were just discussing whether or not I should go downstairs and introduce myself to Buffy." Her voice geared up with excitement. "I mean, it's not everyday that you get to meet a real live vampire slayer in the flesh." She paused a moment, thinking. "Y'know, except for that one time last year when I sorta already did…"

Gunn gave a shrug.

"Might as well," he said. "But you'd better make it quick. I'm not sure how long she's gonna end up sticking around."

This gave Wesley pause.

"How do you mean?"

"I just got out of an impromptu meeting with Angel," Gunn said. "Guy seemed pretty distracted. Three guesses as to the reason why. I don't think things went very well in his office with Buffy and Spike."

Fred looked first at one and then at the other.

"You don't think that…" She dropped her voice. "I mean, Angel wouldn't do anything to…"

"I'm not sure," Wesley said, following her train of thought. "When it comes to affairs of the heart it's often hard to let go of the past. And we all know that Angel is not exactly renowned for his ability to forget."

Gunn choked back a laugh.

"That's the understatement of the century," he said. He studied their blank faces, then added: "Or, y'know, two of 'em."

Fred gestured helplessly.

"I just wish we could make more headway with these images…"

For the first time Gunn noticed the pile of scattered papers upon the table beside her laptop.

"What are these?"

"Sketches," Fred told him. "Angel made them from Buffy's descriptions." Gunn walked over and picked up the topmost sheet of paper. The others depicted shadowy forms which he could not make out. He stared at the sheet in his hand for a long moment. "So far we haven't been able to place anything," she continued. "At the moment I'm operating on the assumption that they are representations of some sort of energy matrix, but-"

"Tag."

"Pardon?" said Wesley.

Gunn gestured nonchalantly at the piece of paper in his hand.

"It's a graffiti tag," he said. "Nothing supernatural about it."

"Are you sure?" said Fred.

"Positive. I recognise it from back in the day."

She frowned.

"Well, now I feel stupid."

"Whereabouts have you seen this particular 'tag'?" asked Wesley. "Maybe we can narrow it down somehow…"

"Good luck," said Gunn, extending the paper towards him. "They have these all over downtown. It's the way that street gangs mark their territory. I did 'em myself sometimes." They both shot him a look. "I had a life before I met you guys, remember? I'm not saying it was exactly pretty."

Wesley carefully took the piece of paper, staring at it intently.

"Maybe if we use Wolfram and Hart's satellite and cross-reference this with areas of known demonic activity…"

Fred turned back to her laptop.

"I'm on it…"

"Is this the breakthrough?" said Gunn, as the two began to busy themselves with this new lead. He smiled in achievement. "Did I just breakthrough? I shoulda known those street smarts would come in handy one day. And the irony of working-class-kid-made-suit is not lost on a brother's lengthy rap sheet."

Wesley continued to study the piece of graffiti, this time in conjunction with the other sketches scattered across the table.

"What do you think?" said Fred, noticing the serious expression upon his face.

"It could be the site of something rising," he said. "I won't be sure until we've identified the other images."

"Not to worry," said Gunn in triumph. "I'm on it." And he began to search through the remaining sketches with newfound enthusiasm.

Wesley stood back and folded his arms again, deep in thought.

"I wonder if Lorne has come up with anything that might prove useful from Buffy's reading? Something that might help us narrow this down at any rate."

"You mean he hasn't?" said Gunn, pausing in his search. "That doesn't exactly inspire confidence."

"If that's the case we might all be in danger," said Fred. "And it doesn't sound like any of us are gonna be ready for what's coming."

All three exchanged a look as the urgency of the situation sunk in.

"Fred's right," said Wesley. "I hate to say it, but there is a good chance something dire may soon come to pass."

**XXX**

"Hello?"

Buffy listened in frustration to another bout of static, and then banged the phone receiver against the desk with Slayer strength. This did not prove to be the best course of action. It promptly fell apart in her hand, and she scrambled to put it back together again as she heard a disembodied voice on the other end of the line calling her name in confusion.

"Shoot," she muttered. "Stupid phone." Somehow she managed to put the pieces back together into something resembling a receiver and lifted it back towards her ear. "What?" she said hurriedly. "Yes. Yes, he's back from the dead, Dawnie. Not in a temporary-sojourn-from hell or, y'know, magical-resurrection-from-the-grave kinda way. Not that those are less legitimate forms of post-post-mortem…" She trailed off in confusion. "What was I talking about again?"

It was about ten minutes since their confrontation in Angel's office had so lamely fizzled out to nothing, and Buffy had taken the opportunity to use the phone out in the lobby and charge the company for a horribly expensive international call. She told herself it was her way of protesting against the Big Evil Incorporated and all that it stood for, but mostly she was too cheap to pay for a better cellphone plan.

Harmony's unease was evident as she slouched low in the chair behind her desk. She was busily arranging a vase of flowers which were currently in no need of arrangement. She didn't know whether to be worried or relieved that for the most part Buffy did not seem to care enough to try and slay her.

The lobby was filled with people and demons going about their day. Some snatched anxious glances at the vampire slayer currently standing in their midst. Buffy felt their eyes keenly upon her. She was in enemy territory and did not forget it.

"No," Buffy was saying into the phone. "No, he seems to be okay, all things considered. Short period of ghostliness aside anyways…" Buffy seemed to sense something then and turned towards the stairs in the corner of the lobby. Spike was traipsing down them, his leather duster swishing behind him. His pace slowed considerably.

Buffy locked eyes with him for a moment as he descended the stairs. Then she snapped out of her stupor and turned back towards the desk, lowering her voice almost to a whisper.

"Do me a favour?" she said. "Don't tell Giles. Or the others. Not just yet." She gave a little sigh. "I-It's complicated, Dawn," she added. "I just thought… Yeah. Yeah, I better go. I'll speak to you later?" She smiled softly. "Okay. Bye."

Buffy put the phone back down upon its cradle. It fell apart again as she did so. Harmony was now hiding her face behind a magazine and did not seem to notice. Buffy abruptly turned to find Spike leaning against the desk beside her, his face impossible to read.

"And how is the niblet?" he asked.

Buffy gave a shrug, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. She wondered if he was still mad after what had been said earlier.

"Okay, I guess. A little wigged. Mostly tired. I forget about the time difference. It's nearly midnight in Rome. She was getting ready to go out with her friends."

A wistful smile spread across Spike's face. It spread to his eyes.

"Little bit is all grown up."

Buffy laughed and leant back against the desk herself, her arms folded at her chest.

"Like you wouldn't believe."

Spike stared down at his boots and then stepped a little closer, still keeping a bit of distance between them. He had his hands firmly shoved in the pockets of his duster.

"So, Rome, huh?" he ventured. "Never figured you for the cosmopolitan type, pet. Thought you might head for that other Hellmouth in Cleveland."

"No," Buffy said, clearly amused. "No way. I've had enough of those things for a lifetime. Had enough of the entire western hemisphere."

Spike took his hands out of his pockets, a little deflated.

"Makes sense," he murmured. "Lot of bad memories to leave behind, I guess."

"Well, Italy has a lot less demons." She thought a moment. "And good food. But I'm still figuring out the lingo. Rosetta Stone's really not as easy as the commercials make it look."

Spike smiled at this. There was a moment of easy friendliness between the two as Harmony watched them intently from behind her magazine.

"So, uh, how's the rest of the gang?" he asked eventually.

"They're okay, all things considered." Buffy rubbed at her folded arms a little defensively as she spoke. "Takes some adjusting when your hometown goes all collapsey overnight. We didn't exactly plan on a road trip. Occupational hazard when you're closing a Hellmouth, I guess."

Spike looked at her intently.

"Did I do that?"

Buffy smiled.

"You did."

There was a beat as they regarded each other warmly. Perhaps sensing this change in mood Spike cleared his throat and shrugged with bravado.

"Uh yeah," he said. "Right shame about that, you and the bit losing the house and all. Although I can't say I mourned the high school's loss very highly."

Buffy shook her head apologetically, unfolding her arms.

"You couldn't have known," she said. "None of us did. Those freaky shaman guys said that I was the last guardian of the Hellmouth. I just thought they were making with the cryptic. I guess not."

"Guess not," he agreed. Then he perked up a bit. "Still, I'm sure you've all adjusted. I mean, Rome? Not exactly slumming it, pet. I'm guessing Rupert probably had a few bob ferreted away for just such an occasion, or maybe Anya was willing to loosen up the purse strings a little after you…"

He trailed off when he noticed her serious expression. Buffy simply stared at him in grave realisation.

"You don't know," she said.

He gave her a look.

"Recently deceased, remember?" He snorted without humour. "And come to think of it I never did realise just how little you and that brooding sod kept each other clued in on your respective operations. Did you know that some raving bird tried to make this city her own personal utopia not too long ago? Or that some hunk of rubble demon calling himself the Beast managed to block out the sun?" He gestured with a hand. "I mean, I know that absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that, but you would think that at the very least-"

"Anya's dead." Buffy regretted how bluntly the words had sounded the moment she had said them. Spike paused with his hand frozen in the air.

"During the battle," she added. "She was killed by a Bringer. And lots of other girls too. Not everybody made it out."

Her eyes found the floor, betraying her vulnerability. Spike lowered his raised hand and considered her with fresh eyes. The girl was hurting and he had been acting so defensively he had not even noticed. Harmony lowered her magazine a little.

"Sorry to hear that, pet."

He didn't know what else to say to this. Buffy sought to fill the silence any way that she could:

"But, y'know, Xander didn't lose another eye. Which is something."

Spike could sense that the topic was a little too raw for her to discuss. It had only been a few short months since Sunnydale had been put permanently out of commission after all. She was still mourning those she had lost. It was not the best time. He got that.

"Heard he's in Africa," Spike offered. "Been there myself."

She frowned quizzically.

"You've been to Africa? When did-?" Then it dawned on her. "Oh."

His soul. He went to Africa to get his soul back. They had spoken about it that last year in Sunnydale, in those brief moments of peace stolen amidst the chaos. She remembered sitting together upon the back porch as he smoked a cigarette, staring out into the empty night with a lantern lighting the darkness around them. She had not pressed him for details. It was simply enough that he had made the gesture.

"I wanted to say thank you," she said.

Spike titled his head a little.

"For what, love?"

Buffy looked down sheepishly at her hands.

"For, y'know, all of it," she said. She brought her eyes up again to meet his. "You saved the world, Spike."

His blue eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Had quite a bit of help in that department, if I recall correctly."

Buffy smiled at this.

"I know that," she said. "But for what it's worth…" Her voice became stronger: "Thank you."

Spike matched her smile.

"Don't mention it, pet. Seeing you standing here alive and kicking's more than thanks enough. And I mean that."

"Mutual," she said quietly.

During the course of the conversation Buffy had turned her body increasingly towards his. Now she extended a hand and settled it gently atop his where it rested lightly on the edge of the desk.

"Spike, about what I said-"

She saw a spark of something in his eyes then, but she could not tell what. Spike drew back just a fraction, but it was enough.

The spell was broken.

"Don't want to keep you," he muttered. "Come a long way after all. I'm sure you and Angel have a lot to catch up on."

He withdrew his hand. She felt her fingertips meet the hard surface of the desk, suddenly bereft of his touch.

"You're leaving?" she said in a small voice.

He shrugged.

"Only swung by for a social visit," he said. "In case you haven't noticed Captain Forehead doesn't exactly appreciate my dropping by the office. And I'm not a card-carrying employee of Evil Lawyers R Us, in case you were wondering. Got my own mission. Or at least I did until not so very recently. It's a long tale of embarrassment and false destinies which I won't bother to trouble you with."

Buffy moved away from the desk. Behind her Harmony lowered her magazine still further, feeling slightly emboldened.

"I can come with if you like..."

Spike studied her then and took a deep breath, seeming to have come to a decision.

"No," he said. "No, you stay here." He gestured towards the desk. "Make all the expensive transatlantic calls that you like. I'm sure Angel's got his people working on your insomnia troubles. Shouldn't be too long with their collective brainpower. They're good at this sort of thing, especially Fred. Think that girl might even be smarter than your resident witch, which is saying something."

Buffy nodded absently. So many questions swirled through her mind she did not even know where to start.

"Spike," she offered. "I'm staying. I mean, until we figure this out. I'll be around."

Spike regarded her warmly.

"S'long as you're happy," he said.

And with that slight nod of his head, the one that she had come to miss, Spike turned on his heel and walked away. Buffy stared after him with a small smile plastered upon her face.

"Happy, yeah," she muttered blankly. "That's me. Just a huge hunk of happiness…"

**XXX**

Angel was not happy.

Lorne sat upon the leather chair in the corner of the vampire's office, nursing a glass of scotch and watching Angel restlessly pace back and forth before the open doors leading into the conference room next door. It was starting to make him dizzy.

"You look tense, Angel," he said. "A-are you feeling tense? If you want I could call out my masseuse. Sweet girl. Belts out a mean Aretha Franklin. She's worked wonders on my lumbago that I couldn't even begin to-"

"I don't need a masseuse, Lorne," Angel said, his voice rising. He turned his gaze to the floor and muttered: "I'm not sure what I need."

Lorne shook his head.

"Tell me something I don't know. But we can both agree there's no need to wear out the patent shoe leather. Have a seat. Take a break. You've been running on empty since, heck, since we took over this place. If Cordy was here I'm sure that she would have something to-"

"Don't." Angel looked up at him, his voice cracking. "Don't, please. It hurts. Just hearing her name..."

Lorne lowered his glass of scotch, suddenly melancholy.

"I feel ya, big guy," he said. "If I wasn't so afraid that my subconscious would manifest itself in a Boris Karloff-looking creation again I'd be getting my grief removed quicker than you can say, well, 'good grief'. For now drowning my troubles in a bottle of the brown stuff will have to suffice."

Lorne took a long gulp of his scotch as Angel settled down upon the leather couch beside him. He did not say anything for a long moment, his hands clasped between his knees as he stared blankly at the carpet.

"Nineteen days," he muttered. "Buffy said she started having the dreams nineteen days after she left Sunnydale. Is there anything significant about that date to you?"

Lorne considered this, setting his empty glass of scotch upon the table nearby.

"Sure there is," he said. "That's around the time we took over Wolfram and Hart, around the time that…" He clocked the significance. "Oh."

Angel glanced up at him.

"Exactly."

"So you're thinking that these dreams of hers have something to do with Spike getting all un-dusted?"

The vampire's gaze was unblinking.

"You tell me."

Lorne gestured helplessly.

"I don't know what to tell you, big guy. These dreams of hers might be regular Slayer dreams, or they could be something else. Prophetic, even. It's beyond my ability to tell. All I know is that girl's feeling some major pain. Guilt. Fear. Anger? All swirling around in that pretty little head of hers. And since Blondie Bear swung by the office her aura's been getting murkier by the second."

Angel slouched back against the sofa cushions.

"Maybe it has something to do with the Shanshu prophecy..."

Lorne nodded.

"Could be," he said. "Or maybe it's just another run-of-the-mill apocalypse. We've haven't had one of those in, oh, about two months? I'd say we're probably due another soon."

Angel leant forwards and put his head in his hands.

"I just wish I knew what it all means," he muttered.

"Eh, knowledge is overrated."

They both glanced up to find Buffy standing in the doorway.

"Or so I've been told," she added lamely.

Angel stood up with a start.

"Buffy." The surprise in his voice was evident. "I thought you'd left."

"Nope," she said. "Slayer still in the building." She glanced aside at Lorne. "If you'd rather…"

Lorne stood up, fishing his jacket from the arm of the chair.

"No need to tell me twice."

He put a friendly hand on Buffy's shoulder as he left. She gently closed the door to the office in his wake. There was an awkward silence as she and Angel were left alone.

Angel voiced the question before Buffy had a chance to ask it: "Where's Spike?"

Buffy stepped a little closer, closing the distance between them.

"I don't know," she said slowly. "I thought he might be with you."

"The thing about me and Spike..." Angel frowned. "Does the term 'seething resentment' mean anything to you?"

Buffy smiled good-naturedly.

"Relax, Angel. I'm not here to force the two of you to hug it out." She paused in her steps. "Although that might not be such a bad idea..."

"Buffy…"

"I heard you have a lead on my dreams of Technicolor badness."

"What? Oh yeah. The guys are working on it upstairs."

"Good," she said. "That's good. The sooner we figure this out then the sooner…"

"You can leave?"

"Figure this out," she finished. "But, y'know, if you're really so eager to get rid of me then I can just…"

She made to leave.

"Buffy," he said. She turned back again. "I didn't mean…" He sighed. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need. There are apartments upstairs. I mean, only if you want to. Until we figure this out."

"Thank you," she said. "But the whole olive-branch-extending? Not really necessary. I already checked into a hotel this morning. It's not exactly the Ritz, but…"

Angel gave an ironic smile.

"If only you'd come to stay here a year ago."

"I'm really grateful for the help," she told him. "Really. But I'm still all with the benefit of a doubt, here. Giles doesn't even know that I came. He wasn't exactly supportive of the round-the-world trip."

"He sent Andrew," Angel pointed out. "And we both know how that worked out. One minute I've got a psychotic vampire slayer on my hands, the next a dozen girls come marching out of the shadows and I'm getting double-crossed by someone who thinks it's pronounced 'vampyr'."

She caught the trajectory of his meaning.

"I didn't send him to spy on you, Angel."

"Word is that nobody in your camp trusts me," he said pointedly.

She lifted her chin.

"Yes. But that's not why-"

"I thought you said we weren't on the same side."

"That depends. What side are you playing for these days?" He turned away at this. She had obviously touched a nerve. "Oh, come on, Angel. Let's not kid ourselves. You're heading up an evil multi-dimensional law firm and Harmony is working as your secretary. It's not exactly the stuff that champions are made of."

"Then why did you come here?" he said heatedly.

"I was worried about you," she said. "I came here to make sure that you were okay."

Angel did not back down.

"You could have called."

"And said what?" She laughed derisively. "Maybe you've forgotten, but you and me? We were never that great with the talking."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," he said angrily, "but you're the one who hasn't exactly made an effort to keep the lines of communication open this past year."

"Oh no," she growled. "Do _not _try and lay this on me, Angel."

"I'm not," he insisted. "I just…" He sighed. "I just didn't want to see you get hurt. It's Spike, for god's sake."

"Yes it is," she said. "And you've already proven more than once that you don't know the last thing about him. Not anymore."

Angel's voice rose in turn.

"And you think that you're Little Miss Well Informed?" he said "You have no idea what's going on here, or why I make the decisions that I make. You just traipsed off to Europe with barely a phone call."

"Oh come on Angel, what was I supposed to think? You come back making all these vague promises about being in the fight with me shoulder to shoulder. Then I find out you've just sold your soul for thirty pieces of silver. So no, I didn't come to L.A. to see you. Can ya really blame me? I felt betrayed. I thought you had turned your back on me, _again_. Unless you've forgotten you kinda have this habit of turning evil and killing people."

"Perfect happiness, remember?" he growled. "That's what it takes. And you can't give me that anymore. Nobody can." She swallowed hard at this. "I'm about as far away from it as I ever was. Every time I think I'm getting close something else gets taken away from me. It never ends, Buffy. I can't win this."

"And you think that I can?" she said, her voice a bit softer. "Remember what I told you, Angel. Up on that bluff. Fighting is every day. And it's hard. But that's why we do it."

"Hard?" he said. "You have no idea what I'm up against. Everyday since I took over this place I've seen evil at work. It eats away at your very soul. You can't stop it. Can't kill it. And that's something you will never understand."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you got to finish!" he snapped. She was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. "You won your fight, Buffy. Meanwhile I'm getting handed the keys to the kingdom, sacrificing everything I've ever fought for in order to protect the people that I love, and all that I get in return is…" He stopped himself. Then he lowered his voice and said: "I don't get the luxury of early retirement."

"So that's it," Buffy said, taking a step back in astonishment. "You think that I have it all figured out, that I rode out into the proverbial sunset with my hero cape a' flowing. Is that it?" He glanced away. "And what about you, huh? When you came to Sunnydale you were like pod-Angel, all chipper and too-good-to-be-true with the James Bond suave! Did you just regress a few years as soon as you stepped inside the city limits?"

"It was an escape," he said quietly. "L.A. got rough."

"Don't I know it," she muttered in reply. He turned away to the window. "But I know you, Angel. There's more to this. There's something you're not telling me."

Angel leant his shoulder against the glass and stared down at the lights of the city below. They washed over his face in a golden hue.

"There are a lot of things I don't tell you," he said. "Somehow it's easier that way."


	3. Act III

_I'm sorry for the delay on this everyone! Due to RL busy-ness I have only just found the time to get this next update finished. Once again it also served as my contribution to seasonal_spuffy. Thank you to those who have reviewed/favourited or else added this to their alerts. I'm hoping to get the next chapter up on the seasonal_spuffy free-for-all day near the end of May - I'm afraid that my uni workload effectively doomed to failure my rather valiant effort to finish the next chapter as well..._

**XXX**

A bespectacled Fred sat in the middle of the lab, her elbow propped up on the table and her chin resting lightly on her fist. Her face was twisted with a frown.

"What are you not telling me?" she murmured to herself.

"Any luck?"

Wesley leant in close over her shoulder, snatching a glance at what she was studying. Fred started and looked up at him. She blushed slightly at his proximity.

"It all depends how you define 'luck'," she said. She gestured at the laptop screen in front of her. It currently depicted a grid scattered with clusters of glowing dots. "We've managed to correlate the data we pulled from Wolfram and Hart's satellite and matched it up with areas of known demonic activity throughout the city."

"And you didn't find anything?"

"Oh, we found something alright," said a voice. "That's exactly the problem."

Wesley drew away from Fred in surprise. He looked up to see Knox descending the stairs from the upper office, dressed in his white lab coat and carrying a hefty box full of papers in his arms.

"A whole lot of somethings," continued Fred. "More than four dozen results. It looks like this particular tag is used by a street gang which occupies a section of inner-city Los Angeles, altogether totalling a radius of about ten blocks."

"I see," Wesley said. He eyed Knox carefully as he hefted his box up onto the table next to Fred. "Is there no way to narrow this down any further?"

Fred gave a shrug, lifting up the edge of the topmost sketch in the pile of papers resting at her elbow.

"Maybe if we could decipher some of the other sketches I might be able to eliminate some of these results. Has your department been making any headway identifying our mystery demon?"

"Not yet," said Wesley wearily. "The images Angel produced were not exactly clear. We're still trying to put together a definitive profile."

Knox removed the lid from the box sitting upon the table. It was filled with files of papers which he proceeded to sort through.

"Well good luck with that," he offered. "Seriously, I'm sure it's not exactly an easy job. There's gotta be what, about fifty thousand known species of demonic life?"

"Sixty," said Wesley. There was a mocking edge to his voice. "But I'm sure you have more than a passing familiarity with some of our more home-grown specimens in your dealings with Wolfram and Hart, Knox. Maybe you could lend us your expertise?"

Knox threw up his hands.

"Hey, I gladly defer to the experts on this one," he said. "I'm sure you're doing a bang-up job. Me, I prefer the excitement and glamour of working up in the lab here. My failed petition for casual Fridays notwithstanding."

Fred looked at one and then at the other, sensing the tension sparking between them.

"Maybe we should get back to our respective grindstones on this one," she said. "Too many cooks spoiling the demony broth. Right now I'm gonna go take a look through Files and Records and see if I can't find anything noteworthy about any of the places we've pulled up so far. I'm sure there must be something." She gestured towards the laptop. "Keep going through those results, okay?"

Fred had soon hurried out of the lab, papers in hand. Wesley watched her go and then settled down into her empty seat, pulling the laptop close and studying the readings currently displayed upon the screen. Beside him Knox turned and reached into the box to pull out a number of hefty-looking files. It was a moment before either of them spoke.

"Is it just me, or is everyone acting kinda weirdly around here lately?"

Wesley looked up at this question.

"How do you mean?"

Knox slowed in his movements.

"Your friend. Cordelia, was it? I mean, she just died and… Don't get me wrong, it was awful. Fred was crying. You and Gunn. Lorne locked himself in his office with a bottle of scotch. Even Harmony was sad there for, like, a whole ten minutes. And don't get me started on how Angel-"

"I'm assuming that this story has a point?"

Although Wesley's tone was harsh there was also a hint of understanding there. Knox flashed him a conciliatory smile, as though asking for patience as he attempted to articulate his thoughts.

"It's just, since then…" Knox returned to his task at hand. "I mean, you all got back from the funeral and it was like business as usual. Except for the boss and his extended sabbatical of course." He paused in his rummaging and looked up, his voice a little softer. "Tell me if I'm outta line here - I don't mean to be all Mr. Insensitive. But did I miss something? Or were you guys not really that close?"

Wesley's fingers stilled upon the keyboard. He was so taken aback he did not even feel indignant at the question.

"Very," he said quietly.

"So what gives?" asked Knox.

Wesley sat back in his chair, staring hard at the man for a few moments as though deciding how much or how little to reveal.

"Cordelia…" His voice trembled a little as he said her name. "She was sick for a long time. I suppose we had all mourned her to some extent. But that doesn't make it any less…" He gave a sigh. "When you lose somebody that close, especially when they have been gone for some time… sometimes the easiest way to cope is not to cope at all."

**XXX**

Angel stood quietly at the window, his back still turned to her. Buffy could see her own face in the glass where his reflection should have been.

"What happened to us, Angel?" She was surprised at the emotion in her voice.

He glanced up and met the reflection of her gaze.

"You said it yourself. We were never big talkers."

"Maybe," she said. "But this? It's like nothing less than the end of the world can get us together in the same room." She lowered herself onto the arm of the leather chair. "I still don't understand any of this, Angel. I don't understand why you are here. I don't understand why you couldn't tell me."

"That was the deal," he said quietly, turning away from the window. "I take the reins of Wolfram and Hart, and it all goes away. The pain. The hate. Everything like new."

"But it doesn't," said Buffy. "And it hasn't. I came here to warn you, Angel. Something bad is going to happen here. I can feel it."

"Something bad has already happened," he muttered. "Bad things are always happening. It's the way of the world. Nothing we can do to stop it. So we just gotta do our best to find some meaning in the madness. Make it worth all the pain and the heartache. Make it all matter."

She did not understand his meaning, but she caught the quiet plea which marked his words.

"You should have told me what was happening," she said. "I could have helped you."

"Well, it's not like you were exactly around to talk to those first few days…"

Buffy's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I had people to mourn, Angel."

"And so did I," he said angrily. "And that's what you can't seem to understand."

It suddenly dawned on Buffy in that moment - the reason for her absence. All of the fire went out of as her expression softened.

"Cordelia," she said. It felt like a lifetime since the name had passed her lips.

Angel could not even look at her.

"Yes." His voice was barely a whisper.

She took a hesitating step towards him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't know… When did-?"

"Two weeks ago."

He sounded so defeated she thought her heart might break. He had been friends and colleagues with Cordelia for many years now; they had worked together even longer than he had lived in Sunnydale. That felt like a lifetime ago. She pushed aside the unsettling thought.

"Angel, if I had known then I would never have…"

"I know," he murmured.

In the silence which followed Buffy searched desperately for the right words to say. She knew very little about Angel and Cordelia's friendship. It was always Willow who relayed news from L.A. whenever it was necessary. For the longest time it had simply been too painful to do anything else. She guessed that Angel and Cordelia must have been very close.

"How did she die?" Buffy realised her voice was trembling.

"Something took her over," he told her. "Made her its host. When it left she fell into a coma. She never woke up."

Buffy shook her head.

"I'm so sorry, Angel. I had no idea."

"There was a small memorial service," he said. "It was just family."

Buffy could tell that he was barely holding on by a thread. She approached him and reached out a hand to tenderly touch his cheek. His eyes were threatening tears.

"Angel." He drew a difficult breath, forcing himself to focus his gaze upon her. "I know it's hard," she said. "I went through the same thing with my mom. But it gets better. It has to."

"You don't understand," he murmured, abruptly pulling away from her touch. "You just don't understand…"

She noticed for the first time just how tired Angel looked. His eyes were slightly bloodshot as he ran a trembling hand across his face. She wondered if he had been getting any sleep lately. She doubted it.

"Angel," she said, reaching out again and touching his arm. "It's gonna be okay."

His eyes were filled with tears.

"You can't know that."

"I promise," she said.

Before she knew it Buffy had pulled him into a desperate hug. She was startled as she felt his weight sink into her. She raised a hand and let it come to rest upon his shoulder. Her thoughts flashed back to the night he had come to comfort her after her mother's funeral. His just being there and holding her had meant more than he could ever have known. She just hoped she could do the same for him now.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she murmured into his shoulder.

He sniffled as he sought to compose himself again, pulling away from her embrace. She kept her hand upon his arm.

"I thought it would be easier this way."

She nodded, still close.

"I get that. But Angel we can't keep doing this. We have to be there for each other. Tell each other all of it. The good and the bad."

"I know."

"I appreciate you coming to Sunnydale," she told him. "I really do. But if I'd known about Cordelia or, God, your deal with Wolfram and Hart then I never would have kissed you."

"So why did you kiss me?" The hurt in his voice was plain to hear. Whether out of bruised pride or because of a deeper attachment there she could not tell.

"Because," she offered. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I don't know. Because I got carried away, I guess. You were standing there, all with the romantic lighting and the lack of damselling. And Spike had just said that-"

"Spike?" he said in bewilderment. "You kissed me because of Spike?"

Buffy tried to backtrack a little: "It's more complicated than that."

"Why don't you explain it to me then?"

She shook her head.

"Angel, I really don't want to get into this…"

"No, let's do," he insisted. "You told me he wasn't your boyfriend."

"He wasn't," she said half-heartedly.

It was obvious that Angel did not believe her. She was not sure if she even believed herself.

"So what is he then?"

The question caught Buffy off-guard. Her hand dropped down to her side as she contemplated her answer.

"He's the guy who never did the things he was supposed to."

**XXX**

Despite the strength of the afternoon sun Spike stood in the shade at the top of one of Wolfram and Hart's many fire escapes, smoking his umpteenth cigarette and gazing down at the city below. He was preoccupied, but not so preoccupied that his vampiric senses did not detect the door of the stairwell opening up behind him. He did not turn around.

"Taking a break from the office?" he ventured.

Gunn stood framed in the doorway, one hand securely in his trouser pocket. The other clutched his eponymous briefcase. He shook his head in amusement.

"Thought I might find you up here," he said. "For a vampire you're not exactly sweating the sun."

Spike smiled with good humour.

"Just working on my tan." He glanced up towards the sun, squinting his eyes a little at the harsh light as the cigarette hung limply from his mouth. "Being a ghost doesn't exactly work wonders for the complexion." He took one last drag and then dropped his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with the heel of his boot. Then he turned and cocked his head inquisitively. "I take it Angel sent you?"

"Fred, actually. She needs your help with something." Gunn reached into his briefcase and pulled out a handful of printouts. "One of the symbols in Buffy's dream turned out to be nothing but your regular brand of L.A graffiti." Spike turned away from the railing and took the printouts he was offered. "We've tracked it down to about four dozen locations in the downtown area. And seeing as how you've been out and about helping the helpless lately she figured you might be able to help narrow down our search."

Spike glanced up at him.

"Buffy saw this?"

He nodded.

"Along with a bunch of shady-looking demons. Wes is trying to I.D them as we speak."

Spike flicked distractedly through the printouts.

"And you want me to what? Take you on a tour of fabulous downtown Los Angeles real estate?"

Gunn gave a small shrug.

"Something like that. We figure the clock's probably ticking down on this one pretty quickly so the sooner we can locate the source of all badness the better."

"Uh huh. But no pressure, I see."

"Except for the impending arrival of the aforementioned badness? None at all." Gunn stood expectantly as Spike continued to look at the printouts he had been given. The vampire gave no reaction. "Uh yeah." Gunn cleared his throat impatiently. "So I'm guessing you're not exactly hiding up here because Angel's on the warpath?"

Spike did not raise his eyes from the printouts.

"Your point being?"

"Er, how about the vampire slayer currently waiting around downstairs?"

"It's complicated," Spike muttered.

"And what is complicated, exactly?" prodded Gunn. "It sounds like you two were all with the togetherness in the not-too-distant past. Or at least that's what I gathered from Angel's complete lack of disclosure…"

"We had…" Spike gave a sigh. "It was…" He gestured wildly with the papers in his hand. "And just why in the hell are we talking about this anyways? It's nobody's bleeding business."

Gunn shrugged.

"I was just wondering why you were so afraid to-"

"Hey, I'm not afraid of anything," Spike protested. "'Cept for maybe burning alive in a soddin' ball of fire..." He paused at this. "Come to think of it, I already did that, so no. Not afraid of anything." Spike looked down again, and quietly he added: "Slayer's got enough to worry about. Dreams of death and pending destruction and all. No point digging up the past. It's done and dusted."

"Or at least _you_ were," Gunn pointed out.

Spike paused on a certain page.

"Wait. This one. Looks familiar."

Gunn leant in close. He had landed upon a page detailing a derelict building, complete with a few black-and-white photographs. One of these depicted the graffiti tag in better detail.

"You know it?"

"It's an old factory, downtown. South Central. Heard a vamp nest got chased out a few months back. Didn't hear what it was that did the chasing."

"Looks like we've got a candidate."

**XXX**

It was not long before most of the team was assembled together in the science lab, ready for a debriefing. Although it was not dark the reading lamp was turned on, scattering light across a row of glass instruments and papers on the desk next to Angel. He was perched on a stool and flicking distractedly through some of the sketches he had produced earlier; Gunn and Lorne were at his elbow, peering at these over his shoulder. Nearby Wesley was hunched over as he stood working at something on a laptop. Buffy simply paced distractedly. Angel did not even attempt to disguise his impatience as Fred and Knox finally strode in the door. Both were still dressed in their lab coats, Fred with her hair now pinned back into a messy bun.

"Sorry for the delay everyone," she said. "Files and Records is, would you believe it, just crammed full of files and records." She sighed as she pulled down her spectacles. "Is everybody here?"

"More or less," said Lorne. "Except for-"

"Spike," said Buffy. He had strolled in just a few paces behind the others. She stepped forward in surprise as a smile tugged at her lips. "You're here."

He paused and took in the room.

"Can't get rid of me that easily, pet."

Angel gave him a sidelong glance.

"So I've noticed."

If Spike was planning on replying to this comment then he was promptly cut off as Fred stepped out in front of him, clutching a manila file tightly to her chest. She held out a hand in greeting towards their visitor.

"Buffy, hi. I'm Winfred, but everybody calls me Fred." Her smile was nothing less than enthusiastic. Buffy returned her handshake a little bemusedly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you. You're sorta like this quantum theory in need of puzzling." She caught herself. "Not in the sense of being something difficult and incomprehensible, rather in the sense of being this enigmatic variable that always seems to be just out of…" The handshake ended. Fred's smile slipped closer to something a little more self-conscious. "And I should really stop talking now…"

Somebody cleared their throat beside her. Fred turned to him apologetically and gestured. "Oh, I'm sorry. This is Knox."

Knox also extended a hand for their visitor to shake. Buffy simply gave a frown as she regarded him properly for the first time.

"Have we met?"

Knox lowered his hand, the proposed handshake forgotten.

"Er, no," he said. "Not as I recall." A pause. "I must just have one of those faces."

Buffy continued to look puzzled to distraction. Angel looked first at her and then at Knox and gestured impatiently.

"Okay, so what have we got?"

"Oh yes," muttered Fred. She reached into the folder she carried and pulled out a few sheets of paper, sliding them across the desk. Angel picked them up and studied them intently. A few detailed the satellite results, sorting them by city district and street name, whilst another depicted a map of Los Angeles and yet another several photos of a building obviously taken from old newspaper clippings. "We ran a search on the satellite to any place which matched the symbol in Buffy's dreams. We narrowed it down to about four dozen possibilities, but thanks to Spike we might have pinpointed the exact location."

"Uh yeah," offered Spike. "Best bet is an old vamp nest in a factory downtown. Industrial district. Heard some rumblings through the otherworldly grapevine."

Angel glanced up from the papers.

"And you're sure this is definitely the place?"

"Seems like our best shot," said Fred. "Files and Records had a lot on this place. Turns out this building has a rather colourful history."

"Murders, blood sacrifices," said Knox. "It was even used as the dumping ground for a particularly prolific serial killer in the 1990s. This was apparently where he took the bodies after he was finished and… disposed of them, so to speak."

Gunn grimaced and raised a hand.

"Okay, count me in the not-wanting-to-know-the-details party."

"So this place was like evil central?" asked Buffy.

"Apparently so," Wesley replied. He had walked around the table and was now peering at the papers over Angel's shoulder. "It says here it was preserved as a crime scene for a number of years and then stood abandoned as the city argued over zoning rights. It was eventually saved from demolition by a rather substantial offer from a certain law firm."

"Let me guess," said Buffy. "Wolfram and Hart?"

Angel looked up in surprise.

"You mean we actually own this building?"

"Sounds like a prime piece of real estate to me," said Gunn.

Angel lowered the file.

"And Buffy's dream was warning her about this place."

Fred nodded.

"That would be our guess."

"What about the prophecies?" he said. "Is there anything in there which could shed more light on this?"

Wesley pushed away from the desk and folded his arms.

"The Pergamum Codex prophesized Buffy's death at the hands of the Master," he said. "But we all know how that came to pass."

Fred looked puzzled.

"We do?"

"I died," Buffy chipped in. "But then I came back again."

"And also another time after that," said Spike.

Buffy shrugged.

"It's a thing."

Fred made an 'oh' expression and fell silent.

"Er yes," Wesley continued. "We also found some obscure passages in the Writings of Dramius concerning the Hellmouth, but it might have been referring to the second portal located in Cleveland."

"But nothing specifically about Buffy?" said Angel.

"No," said Wesley. He snatched a glance towards her. "For all intents and purposes, at least according to these writings, you are supposed to be dead."

Buffy took this in.

"I guess I'm non-prophecy girl then."

"In theory, yes. But you can still influence events in unforeseen ways."

"That's why I couldn't read you, kitten," Lorne explained. "You don't have a destiny. Well, at least not in the traditional sense."

Wesley nodded in agreement.

"Your absence from the scriptures simply means that there is no set path you are destined to take. You have the freedom of choice like no Slayer before you."

"Goody for me," she muttered.

Angel shook his head.

"That means these dreams are about something else," he said. "They're a warning."

"But a warning for what?" said Gunn.

Buffy looked around at everybody assembled, knowing that the same unease on their faces was also reflected on hers.

"That's exactly what we need to find out."

**XXX**

The group sans Fred, Knox and Lorne soon returned downstairs and headed for Angel's office. Buffy marched a few steps ahead of the others, aiming for the weapons display behind his desk with purpose.

"I'm gonna need weapons," she said. "I wouldn't normally ask, but I couldn't exactly smuggle my crossbow through customs. I had a hard enough time keeping Mr. Pointy hidden."

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Dare I ask whereabouts?"

Buffy looked at him and smiled shyly. Noticing this Angel stepped forward and interrupted:

"Are you sure about this, Buffy? We don't even know what this demon is. It might be something stronger than you've faced before. Then _I've _faced before."

Buffy stopped and turned towards him.

"Then I'll deal," she said. "Look, these dreams brought me here for a reason, Angel. Maybe I'm supposed to kill whatever this thing is before it can do some real damage."

"Or maybe your dreams were warning you to stay away."

She shrugged purposefully and approached the display of weaponry behind his desk.

"Then that's a chance I'm going to have to take."

Spike went with her.

"Not alone, you won't."

Angel shook his head and took down the knife that Buffy had been angling for before she could reach it.

"We can handle this, Buffy. I can send in special ops, lead them in the clean up. I don't want you out there. It could be a trap." He looked at the knife in his hand, and then added more quietly: "I don't want to risk losing anybody else."

Spike shot him a sideways glance.

"Buffy can handle herself."

"Spike's right," she said patiently. "I didn't come all this way just to wait around for Evil Incarnate to show up and… _carnate_ in all its evilness. For all we know there could be a doom-laden clock somewhere ticking down to oblivion." She gave him a disapproving frown. "This is me insisting," she said. "I have to do something, Angel."

He studied her then, his expression unreadable.

"So there's nothing I can say that would convince you to sit this one out?"

She flashed him a reassuring smile.

"Angel, you know me. What do you think?"

He did not react for a moment. Then he reluctantly passed her the knife. She took it gladly and removed the sheath, studying the edge of the blade in the light from the window.

"I have more stuff upstairs," Angel offered.

"Great." She returned the knife to its sheath. "Show me."

Wesley stepped forward.

"You should take a cellphone," he said. "Call us as soon as you locate the demon or demons as the case may be. We can advise you from there."

Angel nodded in approval.

"Keep researching in the meantime," he said. "I'm gonna need as much information as I can get about this thing. What is it? What does it want? And how do I kill it?"

"I'm coming with." Gunn did not wait for an answer as he took down an axe from the weapons cabinet; a smile of approval quirked at his lips as he turned it over in his hands and then hefted the thing over his shoulder. "I need a break from the office."

Angel glanced about at those assembled.

"I'll drive," he said.

Spike laughed.

"Like hell you will."

"I'm the better driver," Angel said.

"More like slower, gramps."

"Enough, children!" Buffy cried. "There is a simple solution to all of this." She drew herself up a little straighter. "_I'll_ drive."

Spike and Angel answered simultaneously:

"No, you won't."

It seemed the battle lines had been drawn. Gunn looked at each of them in turn, then delved into his pockets and withdrew a key fob. He held it up for them all to see.

"Allow me to solve your dilemma," he offered. "We'll take my Porsche." All three of them turned and stared at him. He noticed the look on Angel's face and added: "What? You think you're the only one who got the company car?"

**XXX**

The sun was waning but still in the sky as their silver Porsche pulled up on the edge of one of the city's larger industrial areas. Gunn let the car come to a gentle stop just before a disused factory. He had ditched his suit jacket before the drive over. Buffy sat in the passenger's seat beside him, whilst Angel and Spike were crammed in the back. They did not look too pleased about this arrangement.

"This is the place," said Buffy. "Wonder if the locals will appreciate our dropping by unannounced?"

"I'm just saying that seniority should count for something," Angel grumbled. "In or out of the office I'm still the boss. I should get the front seat."

"You're not _my _boss," Spike cut in.

Buffy rolled her eyes as she removed her seatbelt. Through the necrotempered glass the waning sun glinted off the dashboard and caught her necklace on its golden chain.

"I called 'shotgun'," she said. "You all heard it. Is nothing sacred anymore?"

Gunn shot a look in the rear-view mirror. He saw nothing there but an empty back seat.

"The lady is right, Angel. The rules of shotgun are very clear on this."

Angel folded his arms in a huff.

"I still think I should have gotten to sit up front," he muttered darkly.

Beside him Spike leant over and gazed out of the window at the building looming before them. It was daubed liberally with graffiti and appeared slightly fire damaged. Sparse weeds had sprung out of the gravel drive which led up to the service entrance. The symbol from Buffy's dream, an image almost like a Catherine wheel, was prominently emblazoned on the factory door.

"Maybe not the best neighbourhood to leave the shiny new Porsche on the drive," he said.

Gunn shrugged and turned the keys. The engine cut short with an abrupt growl.

"I'll deal," he said. "Got insurance on this thing so tight it would make Donald Trump…" He trailed off at their deadpan looks. "Guess I've been to one too many corporate brunches lately, huh?"

Buffy leant forwards and gazed out of the window too. She heaved a small sigh as she measured up the place.

"The sun doesn't look too high," she said, "but it's probably best not to risk it. Maybe we of the not-so-living-dead should go first, check there is a way in?"

She turned and exchanged a look of affirmation with Gunn. Without waiting for an answer the two opened their doors simultaneously and climbed out of the car, weapons in hand. Two resounding slams shook the space.

Spike and Angel were soon left alone in the back of the Porsche. Neither moved a muscle.

**XXX**

The factory certainly looked abandoned. The skylight far above was so dirty that it had failed to let in any sunlight long ago. A vast space stretched before them, punctuated here and there with large metal containers and industrial shelving units. Some sort of disused crane stood against the far wall, with a hook hanging from a rusted chain. The floor was scattered with discarded newspapers and suspicious stains which might have been blood. Their footfalls threw up bursts of dust as they made their way along the space between two large shelving units.

"This place definitely has the creep factor alright," said Buffy.

"I've gotta say," agreed Gunn. "I've seen nicer places of bloodshed and horror in my time."

They walked in companionable silence for a time, Gunn with his axe and Buffy fidgeting distractedly with Mr. Pointy. She also wore the knife she had taken from Angel's office at her belt and a crossbow and quiver of bolts slung across her back.

"How was he?" Buffy asked suddenly. "Spike, I mean. When he first came back. How was he?"

"Started off with a whole lot of screaming," said Gunn. "Then after that he spent a good few months with one foot stuck in the ghostly beyond. He and Angel had this whole vamped sibling rivalry thing going on for a while. Soon as he got all solid again he disappeared to go and look you up. Next thing we know he's out and about on the dark streets instead, fighting the good fight and doing our work for us."

Buffy took this in.

"Did he ever say why he changed his mind?"

"Sorry. He wasn't too forthcoming on that front." Gunn seemed to notice the melancholy which had settled upon her at these words and added: "He seemed pretty anxious to know that you were okay though."

They continued walking on. Buffy was silent again as she considered the implications of this news.

"I, uh, heard about Cordelia," she said eventually. "I'm really sorry." Gunn turned and looked at her in surprise. She saw the pain flash briefly in his eyes. "Did you guys work together long?"

He nodded.

"'Bout four years. Angel started asking for my help and she was the one who insisted I get a paycheque out of it. Wasn't long before I joined the gang fulltime. She'd get the visions, we'd all go out and kill the evil together. Mostly in the form of Wolfram and Hart. Then we ended up running the place." He frowned. "Still not too sure how we came round to that logic."

"You and me both," said Buffy.

Gunn actually smiled at this.

"Hey, give it time. I promise that soon you'll feel just as confused and morally ambiguous as the rest of us."

"Here's hoping."

Their conversation was soon interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Buffy and Gunn exchanged a look of alarm and then turned in unison to face this danger, weapons at the ready. It turned out to be nothing but Angel and Spike approaching them in an extremely unstealthy manner, bickering pointlessly between themselves. Both were carrying swords.

Buffy lowered her stake in frustration as they approached.

"I thought you two were going to wait in the car?"

"We got bored," said Spike.

Angel shot him a look.

"_Extremely _bored."

"Well, I guess we can rule out the element of surprise then," said Gunn.

Buffy did not even bother to engage in this latest round of antagonism.

"Okay," she said. "Here's the plan. We split into two teams. That way we can cover a lot more ground a lot quicker, try and flush out any nasties into the open."

Gunn nodded.

"Sounds like a plan. So who's on Team Slayer?"

Buffy looked at all three of them in turn and then gave a sigh.

"Angel," she said. He smiled in triumph. "Stay with Spike."

"What?" said Spike.

"_What_?" said Angel, his smile disappearing.

Gunn shrugged.

"Guess that would be me."

And he came to stand beside Buffy instead, toting his axe in readiness.

"Okay," she ordered. "Spread out, but don't go too far. We don't know what's lurking out there. Keep your weapons close. If we find something you'll be the first to hear about it."

"Has everybody suddenly forgotten that I'm the boss around here?" Angel complained. "You can't put me on a team with this guy!"

Spike folded his arms and scoffed.

"You won't get far on Team Spike with that kind of attitude."

Angel was obviously trying to claw back some semblance of authority. It failed miserably as the other three simply followed Buffy's orders and broke away from the group in opposite directions. Angel cleared his throat awkwardly before hurrying off after Spike as he started into the shadows of the building.

Spike glanced over his shoulder at Angel. He gave a chuckle.

"Give it up, mate."

Angel fell into rhythm beside him, carrying his sword.

"What is it now, Spike?"

Spike gestured animatedly with his hands as he walked.

"Alpha," he said, indicating one hand and then the other, "meet Alpha. Both self-proclaimed leaders of their own teams, but throw them both together and hijinks and power struggles inevitably ensue. Fun for all the family."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Angel said. His eyes darted about distractedly as he surveyed the space for any other vampiric activity.

"She"—Spike indicated in the direction which Buffy had went—"is the big boss lady. And if you're planning on partaking in this little raid well, then, like it or not, you gotta answer to her."

Angel tightened his grip on his sword.

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

Spike scoffed.

"Let's face it, Angel, ever since you left Sunnydale you've somehow managed to grow a pair. And every time your former comes back into the frame you revert back into the simpering little puppy you used to be."

"Is that so?"

"You've changed," Spike said. "You both have. And at some point you're gonna realise that. I just wonder whether Buffy still likes the guy that you've changed into."

Angel smirked.

"Speak for yourself."

"And what would you know about it?" said Spike defensively. "Unlike certain people we could name, I own up to all of the dirty little things that I did without a soul. I don't have a convenient doppelganger to blame every time I get my jollies."

"And that's where you're wrong," said Angel angrily. "I take responsibility for everything that I did without a soul. Every life I took. Every person I destroyed."

"Spare me the company line." Spike put on an affected voice: "Oh, I'm so tortured and driven out of my gourd with guilt. That's why my friends can still stand to be in the same room as me after everything I've done to them. Or might do to them." He scoffed. "Face facts, mate. You're just one soul away from straddling the abyss of unrepentant evil. And don't you forget it. I sure as hell haven't."

Angel stopped then and leant in threateningly, his expression twisted with anger.

"And you think you're any better?" he said. "I know you. I taught you. Everything you've seen, everything you've done. Just because they stuck a leash inside your head and dragged you kicking and screaming to the side of good you think that you're any better?"

Spike visibly sobered.

"Are you kidding, mate? I'm going to hell. Same as you. Wont make a bloody bit of difference in the end. But doesn't take an idiot to see that you're steering the corporate flagship straight into oblivion. Just wanna make sure you don't drag the rest of us down with you."

Something in Angel snapped then.

"Buffy doesn't love you," he growled. "She could never love you."

"Is that so?" Spike said. "And what makes you so damned sure she still has eyes for you? Did she even bother to come and visit after Sunnydale did its smoking crater trick?"

"She called," Angel said meekly.

Spike laughed.

"She called," he said. "Right. And what exactly did she say?"

Angel kept on walking.

"She said that she had won. And that you were dead." He paused a beat. "And that she was leaving the country."

Spike raised an eyebrow in amusement.

"Not exactly throwing down the welcome mat, is it?"

Angel whirled around in his steps. This comment had obviously gotten under his skin.

"It's more complicated than that," he growled. "There were circumstances involved."

Spike remained nonplussed.

"Such as?"

Angel looked as though he wanted to scream in frustration. Or perhaps punch Spike in the face. In the end he did neither. Instead he simply ripped his frustrated gaze away from Spike and continued on their patrol of the factory. They soon emerged into an open space bathed in the artificial light of an overhanging lamp.

"Do we really have to get into this?"

Spike shrugged, one hand thrust in the pocket of his duster.

"Just thought you'd appreciate the distraction," he muttered.

As if in answer to these words there was a clanging noise to their right. Both vampires turned as a piece of metal piping skittered across the factory floor out of the shadows. In its wake two dozen vampires suddenly emerged from the darkness. They were soon surrounded on all sides. It was obvious they had just stumbled upon their nest.

"The thing about distractions," said Angel. "_Really_ not gonna be a problem..."


	4. Act IV

_This chapter got quite long and also remains un-betaed, but I really wanted to get it finished and up in time for the seasonal_spuffy free-for-all day for once! This chapter marks the halfway point of the story but also serves as the end of part one if this were a two part television episode, hence the evil evil cliffhanger :D Thank you for all of the comments on this story so far and also to anyone who has added this to their faves/alerts._

****XXX****

Spike and Angel both raised their swords, moving back-to-back as the mass of vampires moved beyond the shadows and into the ring of light. They looked like typical nest dwellers, all scruffy clothes and bargain store haircuts. By themselves one or two of these vamps would not have even given them a second thought, but outnumbered more than ten to one the danger that they now found themselves in proved difficult to ignore.

"Looks like we got company," said Spike.

Angel shot him a look over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I think I covered that with the whole 'distractions' bit."

The vampires converging on them had no weapons, but they all looked ready for a fight and pissed as hell, their gamefaces up. Spike lowered his sword and cleared his throat, trying to defuse the situation before it got out of hand.

"Right, sorry for the gatecrashing, folks. We just wondered if you happened to know any shadowy demon sorts round these parts we might be able to kill. Sorta tall, long limbs, perhaps with a helpful nametag saying 'Freddy Kreuger's long-lost brother'?"

This received no answer. Spike shrugged and raised his sword again. Angel shook his head despairingly.

"Please ignore him," he said. "It's what I usually do."

"What are you doing here?" snarled one of the vampires. "This is our nest."

"Yeah, well, I'm your landlord," said Angel. "And consider this your eviction notice. Maybe you've heard of a little firm called Wolfram and Hart?"

This caused some of the vampires to murmur worryingly amongst themselves. Angel could not tell whether it was because of his threat or because of his mention of the name Wolfram and Hart.

"You don't have the authority," sneered the same vampire. He was obviously their leader.

Angel noted the others still advancing upon them inch-by-inch.

"What do you think?"

And with those words all hell suddenly broke loose. Angel and Spike both raised their swords and met their enemies as they came running at them with wild abandon. Two vamps fell in perfect concert, their severed heads barely touching the floor before they dusted along with their decapitated bodies. The others were not defeated as easily. There was a rush of fists and fangs as they fell upon their attackers, hoping to overwhelm them with numbers before they were able to offer up an effective resistance. Angel and Spike spun together in discordant rhythm, swords flashing as they dealt blows and dodged attacks. But they both knew they could not keep this up for long. There were simply too many of them.

As if on cue there was a yell from across the factory floor. A whistling sound cut through the air and suddenly a vampire running towards Spike jerked and exploded in a cloud of dust. When the remains had dissipated he saw Buffy standing not far away, lowering her crossbow with a look of satisfaction. The two shared a brief look before Spike turned away and met the attack of another approaching vamp, downing his opponent with a swift kick before spinning and slicing off its head with his sword. There was a muted scream as the vampire fell to its knees and dusted violently.

Buffy and Gunn quickly joined the fight, taking on vamps left and right. Buffy reloaded her crossbow once more and then threw it down and wielded her stake when the fighting became too close for a projectile weapon. Gunn wielded his axe with skill, Angel using his sword and Spike eventually just his fists to beat back their attackers. Their disparate styles worked well together despite the larger numbers that they faced.

The tide soon turned in their favour, and it was not long before there were only a few nest-dwellers left. Not surprisingly some decided to break away and flee to fight another day. Gunn threw his axe and decapitated a vampire as it ran away from him, the weapon ricocheting off the edge of a metal container with an ear-splitting crack and spinning wildly through the dust-choked air.

"Angel, man!" he cried. "Look out!"

Angel heeded his warning just in time, diving into a roll as the axe flew at him and missed his head by mere inches. Another of the nest dwellers was not so lucky. After claiming two victims with one throw the axe finally finished its descent and slowly spun once or twice again before sliding to a halt upon the factory floor.

Gunn smiled as Angel regained his feet.

"Boomerang axe," he said. "Patent pending." Angel simply shot him a terse look. "Admittedly there's still a few kinks to work out with the prototype, but…"

This thought was soon interrupted as another vamp tackled him and sent them both crashing to the ground. Breathless, Gunn tried to get his knees up beneath him but found himself pinned beneath the vampire's weight. The next moment the creature bared its fangs. It was all that Gunn could do to keep the thing at bay as it lunged violently at his throat.

"Little help here!" he cried.

Buffy turned swiftly with alarm.

"Spike," she called.

He turned and reacted instantly as she threw her stake towards him. He snatched it out of the air and then spun around in one smooth movement, slamming the thing home into the back of Gunn's attacker. The creature turned to dust with a howl.

This kill marked the end of the fight, yet the mournful echoes still reverberated around the factory for some time. They stood together in the aftermath, their breathing quickened and their hands and weapons covered with dust. Angel wordlessly helped Gunn back to his feet. Buffy watched as Spike lowered the stake again. Their eyes met across the space as her heart continued to pound madly in her chest.

**XXX**

"Slayer-loving freak."

Harmony slammed a stack of papers down onto her desk with a satisfying thud.

"She just waltzes in here and it's suddenly all Buffy this and Buffy that. I mean, it's like high school or something. Except with the me being-inexplicably-unpopular part. And the whole vampire thing. Plus the evil evil lawfirm and the fact that we're in L.A., and-"

The delivery guy just wearily held out his clipboard.

"Sign here please."

Harmony gave a scandalised sigh and then reached out across the desk, taking the proffered clipboard from him.

"Fine," she said. "It's not my problem, anyway. I'm over it. I'm simply thinking of the company image." She scribbled a quick signature at the bottom of the delivery form without really looking. "Having a slayer on the books is sure as hell gonna scare away most of our clientele. Take Angel, for example. Yes, he has a nasty habit of killing clients and severing business deals. But he also _networks_. And up until recently he brooded, like, 10% less than he used to during office hours. That is a man with priorities right there."

She held out the clipboard and the pen. The delivery guy just took the clipboard and pointedly flipped over the top page to reveal another.

"And here."

She stared at him for a moment.

"Oh, sorry!" And she added her signature to the second page as well. The delivery guy flipped the page back and then tucked the thing beneath his arm, taking the pen back from her with a look of disdain and slipping it into the front pocket of his shirt. Then he handed her a small manilla envelope and turned on his heel.

"And good day to you too," she muttered, watching him as he left. "Some people are so rude. Where's the old mail guy when you need him?"

She took a look at the envelope. It was addressed to Angel. She simply tossed it down beside her stack of papers and went back to her typing.

**XXX**

The factory floor was now covered in an extra layer of dust. They stood together in the aftermath of the fighting, struggling to calm their quickened breathing and racing hearts. Buffy slowly retrieved her crossbow whilst Angel and Gunn stood side-by-side, the latter staring at the dust which marked the remains of his would-be attacker.

"Well, that was a thing," said Gunn.

Buffy slung her crossbow across her shoulder again. As she did so Spike approached her and held out Mr. Pointy. She reached out and took it from him haltingly, her hand brushing against his ever so slightly. Their eyes met and held as he let go and her arm dropped back down again to her side, clutching the stake tightly.

"There's something going on here," said Angel. "I thought this nest was supposed to be empty?"

"Evidently not," said Spike.

The words had barely left his mouth when there was an echoing growl from the shadows. Before they even had a chance to raise their weapons again a group of vampires emerged from a hidden corner of the factory, even larger than the host which had just attacked them. They looked extremely pissed.

"Guess I spoke too soon," said Spike.

Gunn made to lift his axe, but Buffy shook her head and touched a hand to his arm instead.

"Don't," she said. "There's too many of them."

He nodded in disbelief.

"Hence the sharp sharp axe."

"Trust me," she said, glancing up at him. "I have a better weapon."

Nearby Angel and Spike, their swords in hand, also prepared themselves to defend against this new foe. Buffy turned and called to them:

"You two," she said. She nodded to the area behind them, where the factory floor gave way to a shadowy corner filled with metal containers and a shelving unit stacked with crates and reels of old piping. "Get back. Behind those containers, in the shadows."

They shot her confused looks.

"What?" said Spike.

"Just get behind me," she cried. "Now!"

Despite their reservations they both followed her instructions and took shelter in the shadows she had indicated, still wary about the edge of urgency in her voice. She did not take up her crossbow again; Mr. Pointy she reached back and stuffed into the waistband of her trousers. Then she slipped a hand into her pocket and pulled out something small. Gunn caught the glint of something shining in the lamplight. Meanwhile the vamps were still rushing at them full speed, all bared fangs and hungry growls.

"Er, team leader?" said Gunn.

Buffy did not take her eyes off the approaching threat. She simply held out her hand, palm upwards, and began to intone in a measured voice:

"_Spirits of the light, I invoke thee. Let the gloom of darkness part before you, let the moonlight be made pale by your presence. Spirits of light, grant my wishes…_"

Angel looked at her nervously.

"Buffy?"

She did not hear him.

"_Ignite!_"

Suddenly the object in her hand leapt up into the air. The next moment there was a huge flash and then the stone erupted into a glowing ball of sunshine. It hung in the air, static for a fraction of a second, and then sent out myriad rays in the direction of the oncoming vamps, obliterating them in a fury of light and flame. In the face of this Buffy stood calmly in the middle of the factory floor, her hair blowing back from the force of the spell as the sunlight dusted vamps left and right before them.

Gunn stood in awe at her side, the sunlight reflected in the blade of his axe. Angel and Spike watched safely from the shadows. Soon the host had been destroyed before their eyes, and the light and noise vanished to leave nothing but guttering sparks and columns of dust to drift slowly to the factory floor.

"Lemme guess," said Spike, squinting his eyes against the brightness. "Ball o' sunshine courtesy of Red?"

Buffy nodded in affirmation.

"A little parting gift," she said, then after a beat: "_Dissipate!_"

At Buffy's words the light retracted and the glowing ball of sunlight faded to nothing. The object that was once in her palm clattered to the ground, now dormant. It had turned dull, its power spent, having taken out more vampires in under a minute than they had during their entire fight.

Angel and Spike slowly emerged from the shadows, coming to a standstill on either side of Buffy.

"You did that?" said Angel in astonishment.

Buffy shook her head and bent down, picking up the stone from where it had fallen.

"Just the catalyst," she said. "Willow enchanted this stone so that all I have to do is invoke the incantation. Her magic does the rest."

Spike looked impressed.

"Always said you could light up a room, pet."

She turned to him.

"Where do you think I got the idea from?" she said.

Spike caught her meaning and his expression changed, a small smile alighting upon his lips. She shared the private meaning with a smile of her own.

"I gotta get me one of those," said Gunn. "Do you do encores?"

"Sorry," she said. "It's a one time only kinda deal. Willow just perfected it, but it uses up quite a bit of juice. We've been testing them out in the field with the new slayers. Makes patrolling a whole lot easier."

Gunn nodded in approval.

"Also, very useful if you ever lose your keys."

Their conversation was interrupted by a clattering noise nearby. Seemingly the spell had not been as thorough as they had hoped. The next moment a lone vampire emerged from behind the shelter of a metal container, taking one look at his enemies, mindful of the fate of his brethren, and then bolting for his life towards the factory door.

Spike gestured unhelpfully.

"You missed one."

"Looks like," Buffy said, casually returning the stone to her pocket. "It's not really an exact science."

"How so?" said Gunn

She smiled up at him.

"It's not science."

Angel rushed forwards and intercepted the vampire before it could get away, seizing the creature roughly by the collar and slamming it hard into a chain link fence which sectioned off a nearby boiler. The vampire grunted in pain as Angel held it fast, its shirt bunched tightly in both of his fists. The others crowded in behind him.

"Not so fast," he snarled. "I want to have a little heart-to-heart before the inevitable stake-to-heart. Word is you chased out another vamp nest a few months ago. I want to know why. There has to be plenty of places for your kind to hide in this city."

The vampire chuckled dryly.

"Our kind? Maybe you should take a look in the mirror."

Angel slammed his opponent into the fence again.

"Kinda can't," he snarled. "Now answer my question. Why the turf war on my jurisdiction? Surely you heard about the recent change of management. So what suddenly makes this building such an attractive homestead?"

Gunn stood back, weighing his axe threateningly in his hands.

"I'd suggest you tell the man what he wants to know. Not only do you gotta deal with the landlords, but that's the original vampire slayer standing in your taillights. She says the word and you're nothing but a dusty afterthought."

The vampire's eyes flickered worryingly in Buffy's direction. She simply remained firm and returned his gaze, her arms folded and her stake clutched at her chest. Spike stood beside her with his hands planted upon his hips. It was not long before this sight of a rather disgruntled vampire slayer brought them the information they were seeking.

"We were made an offer, alright?" The vampire looked first at Buffy and then back to the owner of the hands still gripping his collar. "Got told there was a golden business opportunity a few months back. We set up camp here and provide a continuous supply of fresh humans, and in return we're granted immunity from the new players in the corporate office." An edge of bitterness entered his voice. "Or at least we were supposed to be until you lot showed up."

"Who made you this offer?" Angel growled.

"I don't know," the vampire said. "We never found out his name."

"I find that very hard to believe."

"It's the truth! It was all handled through a go-between. We didn't see his face. He said that his boss worked for Wolfram and Hart. He said he had connections. The last nest wasn't exactly cooperative. We were meant to chase them out and supply the humans. Keep them alive, he said. That was the agreement."

Buffy turned and exchanged a worried glance with Spike.

"Keep them alive for what exactly?" she said.

The vampire smiled at this. The transformation in his demeanour was nothing short of unsettling.

"To feed their little pet. And we got to take whatever was left."

"And what is this _pet_?" said Buffy.

"I have no idea." The surety in the vampire's voice slipped just a fraction. "But it's something a hell of a lot worse than us."

Spike raised an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you never bothered to get to know the neighbour."

"We didn't," the vampire insisted. "Kept itself to itself. It's usually skulking in the shadows behind the assembly line. Probably still there now. No way I'm gonna stick around without the others to back me up."

They all perceptibly drew inward a fraction at this revelation, casting their gaze towards the shadowy expanse at the far end of the factory floor.

Buffy was the first to tear her eyes away from the sight.

"And what exactly does it do to its victims?"

The vampire gave a choking laugh.

"Why do I get the distinct feeling we don't wanna know the answer?" said Gunn.

"I have no idea, really!" the vampire said. "We didn't exactly want to get too close. We hear them screaming as it feeds. Others just whimper. Effects them in different ways, I guess. But they all end up the same. And we're there to enjoy the leftovers."

"So are you keeping anybody here now?" said Gunn. "When did you last meet your delivery quota?"

The vampire smiled again.

"Why do you think there were so many of us?" he said. "Waste not, want not. You just took care of the remaining collateral yourselves when you killed my brothers. And sisters." He looked them up and down and laughed in disgust. "Some heroes you turned out to be."

And with a twist of Angel's hidden stake the vampire gave a muted gasp and then dusted before their eyes. They all stood back as the remains exploded and then drifted down to settle languidly at their feet, indistinguishable from the dust which already covered most of the factory floor.

"How could we miss this?" said Gunn. "Surely these kidnappings would have shown up on our radar. Apparently we own the police, along with most of Los Angeles real estate."

"Not necessarily," said Angel. He was still staring at the sight where the vampire had dusted, the stake clutched tightly in his fist. "We don't have a friend on the force anymore. We might even have a few enemies nowadays."

"You think that whoever made the deal with this vamp nest rigged the police reports to cover it up?" said Buffy.

"Maybe," he said. Angel turned away from the sight of this latest dusting, taking in the yawning space of the factory floor and the assembly line in the distance. "But even if there was something supernatural going on here our employees did a pretty good job of tying up any loose ends. It's simple economics: supply and demand."

"And they had an almost endless supply," said Gunn. "I'm betting these vamps probably took kids straight off the street. There's plenty of downtrodden folk who wouldn't be missed if they showed up gone in the night. They wouldn't turn up in the police records at any rate. Folk'd think that they'd just packed up and moved on elsewhere. I saw it happen all the time back on the mean streets."

Angel nodded.

"And they would have no reason to suspect otherwise. There's got to be thousands of missing person cases in the inner city alone. Who knows how many they took. By the sounds of it this has been going on for months now."

There was a beat of silence as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Spike shook his head and gestured towards Angel disdainfully.

"Right, you lost sight of the big picture, mate. Or maybe that was the problem to begin with. Looking so hard at the world through corporate-tinted glasses it made you blind to those poor sods who needed your help the most. You oughta get out of the office once in a while, see what's lurking out there in the dark."

Angel turned to him, his shoulders falling heavily as he let out a frustrated sigh.

"And that would be you, I'm guessing? Last I heard your little saviour-of-the-downtrodden routine turned out to be nothing but a cosmic joke to distract us from the real danger right beneath our feet. Try playing the hero for more than a few days, then we'll talk."

"It was more like_ weeks_ actually," protested Spike. "And I don't see you getting out there, helpless the helpless or what all. Too busy at the proverbial grindstone, signing papers, writing cheques, am I right? Anything to keep the corporate machine ticking over. Not very heroic in my book."

"You know, Spike, you really shouldn't talk about things you clearly don't understand…"

Gunn waved his axe to try and get their attention.

"Not to interrupt the sharing of warm fuzzies or anything, but isn't there a demon still on the loose somewhere? And shouldn't we call Wesley? Sounds like we got a traitor in our midst."

"I'll do it," said Buffy wearily. "Anything to get from having to listen to these two again…"

Gunn reached inside his trouser pocket for his cellphone. He handed it to Buffy, who hit the speed dial for Wesley's office and then lifted it impatiently to her ear. She caught the tail end of Spike and Angel's argument as it continued on apace despite their obvious disinterest:

"I was just saying that you were on sabbatical..."

"I was not on sabbatical," Angel growled. "I was just taking an extended leave of absence to deal with some personal issues."

Spike turned to Buffy.

"He was on sabbatical."

"Perhaps it's just me," said Gunn, "but I'm sensing a certain level of hostility here."

Spike shot him a disparaging look.

"You got a knack for this intuition thing, Charlie boy. Anybody ever told you that?"

Buffy paused and put up a hand, the cellphone still ringing as she held it up to her ear.

"Shut up for a minute," she urged. Her tone had turned serious. "Does anybody else hear that?"

The others fell silent, straining to hear the sound that she had indicated. A series of shallow rasps soon became apparent. They all stood their ground, weapons raised and alert as they glanced up as one at the rafters far above their heads. A shadowy creature was splayed upon the factory ceiling, panting heavily as its glowing eyes fixed upon them with a look of ravenous hunger.

"Okay then." Buffy's voice was very small as she lowered the cellphone. "Definitely not just me."

**XXX**

Wesley sat at his desk beside his phone, his tired face illuminated by the glow of the reading lamp. The sun was beginning to set through the window behind him as the first twinkling lights of Los Angeles appeared to dot the undulating skyline. Fred paced the room, flicking through a book distractedly in search of answers. Lorne had perched himself upon the edge of Wesley's desk. He was currently surveying the array of volumes stacked upon its surface with a less-than-enthusiastic expression.

"This is kinda like looking for a demon in a demon-shaped haystack," Lorne complained. "Or, y'know, maybe some other more successful analogy…"

Wesley glanced up from his research.

"I would have preferred them not to leave before we had more time to work out a strategy."

Fred closed her book in frustration.

"Or at least until we finished playing pin the name on the demon."

"Still, I rather got the feeling Buffy needed something she could fight."

"Not to mention Angel-cakes," said Lorne. "Anything to get him out of that broody bachelor cave of his."

Fred nodded.

"Strike one up for the team, I guess. But where does that leave the rest of us?"

Lorne reached over and picked up something on the desk beside him.

"It leaves us holding the fort against Hades-knows-what, searching through every demonic volume known to man and beast alike"—He lifted the stopper from the decanter of whiskey with a frown—"and swiftly running out of the old lifeblood."

Fred finally gave up her pacing and settled down in a nearby chair.

"What did you see?" she asked Lorne. "When you read Buffy, I mean. There might be something there which could help us."

Lorne just shook his head as he returned the decanter to the desk.

"I'm sorry, Fredikins. Just like Wes said. Our resident slayer has no path that I can see. We're flying blind on this one. Our best shot is to find this demon and see what it can tell us about the danger we're facing. Not that we're ever going to find our mystery monster anytime-"

"I've got it," said Wesley, standing up in triumph from behind his desk. The other two both turned in surprise.

"Well, colour me presumptuous," said Lorne.

Fred lowered her own volume.

"Are you sure?" she said excitedly.

Wesley trailed a finger along the page he had settled upon, his eyes excitedly taking in the rest of the passage he had located. Then he paused and gave a frown.

"Oh no, sorry," he said. "It says here that this particular type of demon is indigenous to the jungles of South Africa." He set the book down upon the desk in defeat. "And the odds of it being our contender are rather slim considering it has been extinct for the last five hundred years."

The other two slumped again in disappointment.

"Well, at least we can scratch that one off the list," said Lorne. "Unless the demon world's been sharing shamans with Jane Fonda again… How many possibilities does that leave us now?"

Fred adjusted her spectacles.

"Eliminating non-humanoid demons and also several sub-species of demonic parasite, but including those with the ability to shape shift and assume human form? Roughly ten thousand known candidates."

Lorne hissed uncomfortably though his teeth.

"Is this a bad time to mention that I have a Zumba class tonight?"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the telephone ringing on Wesley's desk. Fred looked up in excitement.

"I bet that's Angel."

Wesley hurried to answer it.

"Hello?" By the expression on his face the others could tell that it was not good news. Wesley looked up at them and simply shook his head helplessly. "There's no answer."

**XXX**

The cellphone rang forgotten from its place upon the factory floor.

The creature dropped from the ceiling, straightening up and towering over them by a clear foot. Its grey mottled skin was stretched tight across an almost skeletal body and partly covered with a tattered shroud, whilst a set of deep set eyes stared out at them above a row of jagged teeth. It did not look happy to see them.

"I'm guessing this is the neighbour?" said Spike.

Gunn side eyed him.

"Probably mad that we never introduced ourselves."

Buffy quickly reloaded her crossbow. Her opponent was faster. As she unleashed a bolt straight at the creature's heart it effortlessly dodged the projectile with a speed almost faster than sight. There was a whistle and then a thunk as the bolt she unleashed impacted into a wooden crate, which exploded in a shower of splinters. The creature stepped back to its original position in a blur of speed, almost as though it had done nothing but avoid a nuisance fly.

Buffy's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, crap."

For all of her alarm she dropped her crossbow and immediately leapt into the fray, striking out wildly with her fists and feet with as much speed as she could muster. Her blows met nothing but air until the creature's hand slammed into her chest and sent her crashing to the ground.

Buffy groaned and clutched a hand to her stomach, severely winded. The creature did not get a chance to come back for seconds as Gunn leapt forward and swung his axe with all of his might. There was a strange skittering sound, like the hiss of a cockroach, as the creature dodged his attacks in a blur of otherworldly speed. Against an opponent like this his axe quickly proved cumbersome and slow, and it was knocked from his hands and sent clattering to the ground. A glancing blow then knocked Gunn off his feet.

In response Angel and Spike rushed to meet the creature's attacks together, their gamefaces on. Sometimes nothing more than a grey shadow, it dodged their efforts with an ease which would have been impressive if it was not so frightening. Now weaponless Gunn rushed to Buffy's aid and helped to pull her back to her feet.

Locked in a never-ending dance they watched Angel and Spike dealing the creature blow after blow, their swords meeting nothing but thin air for all of the strength behind their attacks. The next moment the creature dodged their offence in a continuous blur of connected speed and then disappeared entirely from view.

"Ah, hell no," said Gunn. "Now that's just cheating."

Angel cast about in confusion.

"Where did it go?"

The words had barely escaped his mouth when the creature suddenly phased back into appearance right in front of him, thrusting its gnarled hand against his chest. Angel's face slid back into human form, a pained cry dying in his throat as he hung suspended in the creature's grasp. The sword fell clattering from his grip. The creature gave a strange gurgling sound, almost like a guttural laugh, as its hand glowed a sickly chartreuse colour. Angel mouthed wordlessly in pain.

The next moment Spike barrelled into the creature at full tilt. It immediately let go of Angel, who fell to his knees in trembling shock as the creature's attack was suddenly interrupted. Nearby Spike began to get in his licks on the creature as Angel clutched a hand to his chest in obvious pain.

"Angel!"

Buffy started towards him, but he simply threw up a hand. He did not look up.

"I'm fine," he managed, now standing bent double with his hands upon his knees. "Take care of that thing before it kills us first."

These words were nothing short of prophetic. Spike lunged with his sword and came up lacking as the creature swiftly dodged this attack, lashing out with its long claws and catching him with a fierce blow across the face. It was so strong that it sent Spike crashing violently into one of the shelving units against the far wall, landing in a heap as piping and other miscellanea tumbled from the shelves and rained down upon his injured form.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled.

They were too far away to reach him. The creature blurred out of existence before their eyes and reappeared in a split second before Spike, who was now weaponless. His gameface had disappeared as he attempted to put weight onto his leg and failed miserably, unable to stand as the creature advanced upon him with malicious intent, its glowing hand outstretched.

Buffy reached for her belt and threw her knife in desperation. Distracted, the creature did not dodge the weapon in time and the blade lodged itself between its shoulder blades. It gave a scream as it came stumbling to a halt, its long claws scrabbling desperately to try and remove the knife from its back.

Angel seized his chance. He retrieved his sword from the floor and then sprung into action from bended knee, rushing forwards and violently thrusting his sword into the creature's torso. It opened its mouth wide and howled in pain as the blade penetrated its thick hide and emerged from the other side, sending a spray of discoloured blood into the air. Before it could attempt to extricate itself Angel shoved the creature backwards until it met a section of chain link fence and quickly became entangled as the blade passed through the other side.

Angel stumbled backwards, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the creature struggle to free itself from this predicament. The same blur of speed which had marked its earlier agility was now nothing more than a mark of its desperation, as it tried vainly to dart out of the way of the blade protruding from its torso.

Buffy snatched up the axe which Gunn had dropped earlier and stepped forward. Then she swung it with a desperate cry. There was a horrible thwack as the demon's head was severed from its shoulders. More blood sprayed. Angel gripped the handle of his sword and wrenched it free from the creature's corpse. The decapitated body shuddered and then succumbed to gravity, following the head as it rolled away across the factory floor. The headless body continued to spasm for a few moments before it jerked and then became still.

Everything came to an abrupt end, the sudden silence perhaps more disquieting than the noise of battle itself. Buffy lowered the axe, breathing heavily. Blood was now flecked across her face. Angel did not say anything as he studied the dead creature at their feet. In the silence Gunn recovered the knife and soon noticed a steady dripping noise. He looked down with a groan and realised that blood now stained his expensive-looking shirt.

"Oh man, I dread to think of the dry cleaning bill for this."

Buffy dropped the axe without a word and stopped to check on Spike, who was leant back against the shelving unit in the corner. There was now a hard way cut across his face. They shared a brief moment as their eyes locked, Buffy touching his face as she examined his wounds. Spike smiled softly and pushed her hands away.

"'S alright," he said. "Just a scratch."

Gunn noticed this moment of intimacy but did not comment upon it. Instead he busied himself by wiping at the blood currently splashed across the front of his shirt, frowning deeply as he stared down at the slain creature in their midst.

"That fight felt vaguely familiar," he said. "Or maybe I've been stuck in the office so much lately I'm misremembering things." He turned to Buffy. "Anything you've fought before, Blondie?"

Buffy reappeared at his side, Spike close behind her with a slight limp. She looked down at the creature intently and shook her head as Gunn passed her back the knife.

"I'd remember a creature like this, and I've beaten my fair share of nasties. This was something new."

She returned the knife to her belt. Spike touched a hand to his injured face, then gestured to the dead creature lying at their feet.

"What was that green flash? Looked to me like Matrix boy was trying to work its mojo on Angel."

"Tried and failed," Angel said, wiping off his sword. "I'm fine."

Spike smirked.

"I guess I was kinda thrown by the girlish screaming."

"Whatever it was that's probably what it was doing to those poor people," said Buffy.

"What did it feel like?" said Gunn.

Angel looked askance at him.

"Like the un-life was being sucked out of me, thanks for asking. But doesn't look like it got a chance to finish. Probably takes longer to drain the life force of a vampire. Obviously the others weren't so lucky."

They all continued to study the decapitated creature, imagining the horrors that its other victims had once endured.

"Well, at least it can't hurt anybody else now," Gun offered.

"This must be what my dreams were trying to warn me about," said Buffy. "All of those people. They needed our help. Somebody was trying to work against the system this entire time."

Spike nodded.

"And we had no idea."

"So what do we do about the mutiny on the Bounty?" said Gunn. There was an expectant pause. "Angel?"

Angel shook his head and gestured dismissively.

"I'll deal with it once I get back. Get Lorne to do a company-wide sweep, see if we can find the culprit."

"What?" said Gunn. "Because that was so effective the first, oh, dozen times?"

Angel frowned.

"You're right. Obviously there are ways of working around our detection systems. Best to bide our time, lay low for a while, and then find out whoever did this and bash their heads in."

Spike shrugged.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Buffy stooped down and picked up the cellphone she had dropped earlier. She put it to her ear and heard nothing but a steady dial tone; if he had answered the call then Wesley had long since hung up on his end.

"No luck."

She was about to hit redial when Angel shook his head, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out his own cellphone instead.

"I'll call him," he said. "I _am_ the landlord, apparently."

Buffy simply nodded and flipped her own cellphone closed, handing it back to Gunn who promptly returned it to the pocket of his trousers.

"Whoever is behind this had a good reason to hide," said Spike.

"It could be anyone," said Gunn.

All three frowned as they looked down at the decapitated creature again, as though hoping that the sight would help to give them the answers they sought.

"So," said Buffy after a beat. "Got any immediate suspects in mind?"

"One of the guys in the copy room wears sock suspenders," said Gunn. "That's a sign of being evil, right?"

"You betcha. As is a love of foie gras, antiquing and the ability to recite the lyrics to Copacabana."

Angel frowned as he looked up from his cellphone.

"I always liked that one."

"So what about our dearly departed friend?" said Spike.

"It won't be hurting anybody else," said Gunn. "Not unless it grows another head." He paused as an anxious look crossed his face. "These things can't grow another head, can they?"

Buffy looked down at the creature at their feet again. Then she looked at the head and carefully nudged it with the toe of her boot.

"It looks pretty dead to me. Occasional twitching aside."

"Leave it," said Angel. He gave a weary sigh. "I'll call for the cleaners. But y'know, the kind that actually clean up. We'll sort out this mess. I think that's probably the end of our entertainment for the day."

"Right," said Spike. "Good day had by all then. Pub?"

Gunn pulled at his tie, loosening the tension at his collar.

"Sounds good, but I got a ton of paperwork to do back at the office. And also laundry. Just my luck I wore the Versace today."

Spike shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

And he turned on his heel and walked away, taking up his discarded sword as he went. He shrugged his duster back across his shoulders as he did so, his walk marked with a pronounced limp in his step. Gunn went with him, retrieving his bloody axe and hefting it up onto his shoulder. There was a mixture of exhaustion and satisfaction written across his face.

Buffy remained behind for a moment, reaching out and touching Angel gently on the shoulder.

"Hey, you sure you're okay?" she said softly. "You looked pretty shaken up for a moment there."

He just shook his head.

"I'm sure," he said. "You should head back with the others. I'll meet everyone at the office just as soon as the cleaners are done. Then maybe we can figure out who was pulling the strings behind our headless friend here."

Buffy gave him a reassuring smile.

"Still, when you think about it this is probably my most successful visit to date."

And she left him alone as he considered the cellphone in his hand, her eyes lingering upon the dead creature lying in her wake as she headed for the factory door where they had first come in. Angel turned and stood watching her go until her footsteps had faded and he heard the sound of the car departing outside.

He did not notice the decapitated head suddenly open its eyes and give an unsettling growl, its pupils flashing with a strange green light.

**XXX**

Angel lowered the cellphone when he heard the disturbing noise behind him. He turned to find the creature standing where it had once been slain, its clawed hands just dropping to its sides as it finished reattaching its own head.

He did not move, standing rigidly in place as the creature seemed to stop and consider him carefully. He saw a flash of recognition in those eyes above the skeletal row of teeth. Then there was a strange snuffling sound, as though it were testing the air, before the creature simply turned and disappeared back into the shadows.

Angel blinked in confusion as he watched it go. It did not take him long to realise the reason for its disinterest. It had already fed. Now it was retiring to sleep off its last meal.

He approached the spot where the creature had once been. It was then that he realised he could hear something else: an extremely weak heartbeat. He had not heard it before in the confusion of the fighting. He knew what it meant. He had heard it many times before. It was the heartbeat of someone who was close to death.

It soon led him towards a shadowy corner of the factory. There was a door here, maybe some kind of storage room, heavy and locked up tight against trespassers. He simply returned the cellphone to his pocket and then gripped the handle, giving it a sharp pull and breaking the lock with ease.

The door groaned in protest as he pulled it open. As he stepped through the doorway he ducked beneath a tattered plastic sheet which served as a sort of curtain, entering a small storeroom devoid of light which had obviously once served as a meat locker.

Here was the source of the heartbeat. A young woman sat against the far wall, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms hugging her knees for warmth. There was a long rusted chain bracketed to the wall which terminated in a manacle about her ankle. She was as pale as a sheet. It was obvious that she had lost a lot of blood. He approached and noticed multiple bite marks in various places: on her arms, her neck, even down her legs. This was where the nest had kept their supply of food. The vampire he had spoken to had lied. There was still one left that they hadn't yet turned.

"Please, help me," she murmured.

The woman was shivering from the cold, but the temperature seemed to have been turned down just enough to slow down her metabolism but to stop short of freezing her to death. He noticed tear marks running down her cheeks.

Angel stopped and knelt down before her, reaching out a hand and gently touching her knee. She started despite herself. His hand dropped away as she attempted to scoot away into the corner, the chain rattling as she went.

"It's okay," he murmured.

"Please," she said softly. "Please, don't kill me."

He studied her closely.

"Did they feed you to that creature?" he said.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"I guess we have something in common then. How do you feel?"

Her gaze fixed upon him, staring and vacant as though she were seeing something that she wished she had never been made to witness.

"Empty."

"Really?"

And he simply grabbed the woman, pulled her close and violently sank his teeth into her neck. She gave a choked cry of pain as he drank deeply, his hands holding her arms in an iron grip. When he was satisfied with this short taste he casually snapped her neck and left her to crumple bonelessly to the ground, wide-eyed and staring in her moment of death.

He smiled and touched his fingers to his bloody mouth, savouring the taste of human blood for the first time in many years.

"I feel just fine."

**XXX**

In Wesley's office the trio continued to work. They did not notice the open volume on the desk, half-hidden by a pile of books, its pages displaying a sketch of a creature with a distinct glow emanating from its outstretched hand. A small inscription was written beneath this etching:

_Esor animi: _Soul eater.


End file.
